Life Is A Journey
by spottedhorse
Summary: Just as Anthony thinks his life is all but over, a new chapter begins. Unsure about which genre(s) this fits so I just picked two. They might change;-) I've included Edith as a character from the beginning although she won't appear for some time. Still, she is never really very far away.
1. Closing a Chapter

So many wonderful Andith stories floating out there right now! They inspire me. This one's focus is on Anthony, although as we know, Edith is never very far away...

There will be a few original characters along the way; one in particular will change Anthony's world. hopefully for the better?

As always, your comments and reviews are most welcome... like candy for my insatiable sweet tooth.

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"Life is a journey, not a destination."  
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Life is a journey. Anthony Strallan had heard that said many times in his lifetime. But often it had seemed to him that the ship of life left port, leaving him standing on the pier, watching as it disappeared over the horizon. He had never been quite in step with those around him. He thought himself to be a kind man, generous even. He worked hard for the good of his estate, caring for his tenants and ensuring they had what was required for success. He had loved his parents dutifully and his sister as well, although he had never felt any special bond with them. Again, he was never quite in step and his father often would end a conversation with a simple shake of his head as if he wondered from where Anthony had been spawned. His mother loved him well enough and encouraged him too but she was often caught between Anthony and his father, so as Anthony moved through adolescence he distanced himself from both parents at a time when he probably needed them the most.

At school, when his chums were all off chasing the young ladies, he had been content to remain behind reading a book or engaging in planning for the modernization of the estate. Occasionally he let himself be dragged to some party or ball by one of his friends, chafing in the required formal wear and feeling extremely uncomfortable in the company of the young ladies. They all seemed to think he was a terrific bore and he knew they laughed behind his back. And then he met Maude…

Maude Gordon was pretty but not a ravishing beauty. She was intelligent but not overly so. And for some reason that he never understood, she was drawn to him. After a few chance meetings at some gathering or another, he began to feel almost comfortable in her presence. And once he was able to relax, he realized how incredibly funny she was…and also that she was as much a fish out of water as he. It didn't require much thought for him to realize that this was the woman he would marry. It wasn't that he felt any storybook love or adulation for her; rather simply that she was the one woman he had ever met with whom he knew he could be comfortable enough to survive years of co-habitation. They shared many interests and she seemed content with the notion of a quiet country life. He thought they could get by happily enough.

They did get along well enough and after a few years he found himself preparing for fatherhood. It was both exciting and intimidating. He worried about Maude since she seemed to be ill for the entire pregnancy. In the end his worry was justified. She died giving him a son. But the child wasn't healthy either and he died a few short hours later. So on a dreary, rainy day he buried his wife and son, along with all hope of something of the life his friends seemed to enjoy.

The following years Anthony finally seemed to find his footing in society. No longer caring what others thought and having decided that others would just have to accept his shy awkwardness, he was free to attend gatherings without the pressures he'd felt as a younger man. But unless he was escorting one of the widows in his circle of friends, he usually attended alone.

Then a miracle happened. He met the second daughter of his neighbor and friend, Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham. That he had been invited to dinner as a possible suitor for the eldest daughter was plain. But it was the second daughter, Edith, with whom he seemed to have anything in common. Still, he attempted to fulfill his purpose and pay attention to Mary. He even called later in the week to see if she would like to take a ride in his new motor car. She obviously wasn't interested. But Edith was…and that afternoon began a journey for which Anthony had been completely unprepared. He fell in love with the young woman, hardly more than a child; hopelessly, intrinsically, and exquisitely in love. Never in his life had he known such emotions, such a connection with another human being, let alone a woman. To his complete astonishment, she seemed to care for him as well. They spent a lot of time together over the following months, Anthony wanting to give her the opportunity to meet other men, younger men. He wasn't foolish enough to think he would hold her attention for very long but he relished every moment that he did.

It had taken all of his nerve and a shot or two of liquid courage to work up to asking the all important question. He had warned her a few days before that he would be asking, looking for any sign that she might refuse him. Having detected nothing of the sort, he'd worked up his courage at the Downton garden party and gone looking for her. Unfortunately, her sister Mary found him first. In just a few casual words Lady Mary dashed his anticipation and courage and his old uncertainty returned. His hopes deflated and his heart broken, he'd fled the scene despite Edith's pleas for him to stay. What was it the American, Whittier, had written? "Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been." If only he'd paused to speak with her, truly speak with her….if only.

But Life was not finished with him, not done with his torture; he left for war and come back broken. Even with the age difference between them, it might have eventually worked out, except that war had left him wounded in so many ways. His arm was just an external sign of the injury he had suffered. Not only was he too old; he was no longer a whole man, broken both outwardly and inwardly. Still, Edith had given him hope and it had almost worked. But as he stood at the front of the church, nervous and unsure, over hearing the snide whisperings of others, his rational self—or was it his irrational self - took hold and he broke both their hearts.

He all but ran from the church, fighting the tears that insisted on falling. He ran past the car and down the road. And he kept running until he could run no longer. Finally he made his way back to Locksley, locking himself in his library, tearing off the coat and tie, ripping off his waistcoat, and drowning himself in whatever he could find in the decanters on the side table. "Funny," he thought to himself as he poured another drink, "the war and my injury didn't make me drink like this but she does… or at least, not having her does…"

When he finally awoke the next day, his mind fuzzy and his head pounding, he knew he had to leave. He couldn't stay here; not with so many memories of her…not now. But where to go? He had the tickets for what would have been their honeymoon but…no, not that. So what? By the following morning, he had his answer.

Stumbling around in his library, half drunk and completely miserable, he knocked a book off one of the tables. He heard it as it hit the floor, the pages falling open. Reaching for it, he saw that it was from his American collection…. Emerson. The author's words leapt from the page, mocking him. "Always do what you are afraid to do."

Sighing, he decided to go to that country, to visit the land of Emerson …Massachusetts. There he would visit Emerson's grave and tell him how foolish that notion was. Because in Anthony's clouded thinking that morning, he had done what he was afraid to do, he had walked away. Had he married his Edith, it would have done her a great disservice which they both would have grown to regret. But the joy that he would have had in the meantime…oh the joy! Fuzzily he wished the man, Emerson, were still alive so he could beat the man senseless. Then maybe Mr. Emerson would understand the pain Anthony now suffered. He had no idea where he would go after he shared his opinion with Emerson but it was a beginning to… something. Consequently, a week later he was on a ship bound for the new world.


	2. Wandering

By the time Anthony stepped off the ship at Boston, he wasn't as keen on chatting with Emerson. He'd terrified his neighbors on the ship with his night terrors that had haunted him off and on since waking in a hospital toward the end of the war. Oddly, they had subsided when Edith reappeared in his life. Now it seemed they were back, sapping any confidence he managed to muster during the day. There was no longer any point to confronting Emerson; he was a coward and he knew it. He had run away…oh, he'd managed to justify his actions, coating his retreat in chivalry and propriety but in truth the idea of living up to all that she deserved terrified him. His Edith, his beautiful, smart, funny Edith…his dearest darling deserved so much better than a used up old fool like him. And yelling at Emerson's grave would change none of that.

So instead he elected to see the sights, visit the museums, and take in the culture. A visit to Emerson's grave might be a part of all that but was no longer his destination. He drank in the history, young by comparison to his own country but storied. The museums were interesting but he had seen far greater ones in Europe. He even attended one of their sporting events, watching the Red Sox play that American game of baseball. He recognized a few of the skills used in Cricket but it was a very different game, he quickly realized. Still, it had been an entertaining afternoon, once the basics of the game were understood. After two weeks of touring in and around the city, he decided he wanted to see what the rest of the country was like. He'd often heard there were regional and cultural differences with influences from every corner of the globe and his curiosity was aroused.

New York City was incredible he decided when he arrived there. Staying at The Algonquin, some of the most interesting places in the city were within easy walking distance. He took in plays on Broadway, visited Times Square, went to he museums and their library, but a trip to Central Park had him longing for the spaciousness of Locksley. Still, he wasn't ready to return.

As he walked back to his hotel from the park, he was deep in thought, wondering if he would ever be able to return. Socially he was ruined, he knew. Only his closest friends would ever receive him again and not publically. The few who might be willing to overlook his disgrace would undoubtedly be the target of the Grantham ire. Robert might let his behavior pass but the Dowager… never.

Anthony was so deep in thought that he nearly careened into a pair of ladies who were walking towards him on the sidewalk. It was only the squeal of the younger one that shook him from his thoughts in time to keep from colliding. He paused, asked their pardon, and felt embarrassment as the younger one giggled and whispered something to her companion. The older one grinned and glanced at Anthony with a smile. "My sister wonders if you are English," she said softly.

"Yes, I am," he replied quietly. Just as he was about to excuse himself again and walk away, she spoke again. "Would you like to take tea with us?"

"What?" Anthony asked stunned.

"Tea; you English are fond of tea, I've heard."

Anthony looked into the gleaming dark eyes of the woman. He guessed her to be in her thirties, older than Edith but much younger than him. Her directness bewildered him as did the way she was looking at him now, as if he were some from of prey. After a moment he found his voice and replied, "Yes, we do. But I'm afraid I must decline your kind invitation." He smiled awkwardly, trying to be polite. She looked disappointed and Anthony couldn't understand why. Then the younger one spoke. "Oh please…surely you haven't anything too pressing that you can't take a few minutes for tea?"

Completely astounded by the behavior of the two women, Anthony blurted the first excuse his feeble mind could muster. "Thank you really, but my wife is waiting for me and I'm already going to be late." Tipping his hat he dashed around them and hurried down the street. Back in his hotel room, he chastised himself. Why did he say that, he wondered? Why did he mention a wife? "Oh Edith, if only it were true," he whispered sadly to the empty room.

The experience soured him on New York and so Anthony set out for Washington D.C. There he again visited museums and monuments but after a week, set out into the Virginia countryside. Following the Shenandoah Valley, he stopped at a few battlefields, but his wounds were still raw from his own war so he didn't linger. He visited the home of Thomas Jefferson and marveled at the genius of the man. From there he meandered south into the Carolinas and on into Georgia.

By the time he arrived in Savannah, Anthony was beginning to realize how well he was doing on his own. Oh, his heart was still empty…or was it full of yearning for his dearest? He wasn't certain. But he was managing his day to day routines well enough. Leaving his man behind, it has been necessary for him to dress himself and tend to the other mundane details of one's upkeep. Consequently his left hand had become quite dexterous and he could almost fasten his buttons as quickly as before the war. Where something as simple as visiting the privy had intimidated him before, he was now able to give it little thought beyond the need to go. Anthony realized that there was something quite liberating about being able to manage such normal, routine things on his own again. Yes, liberating and self-assuring.

Next he travelled west and in the coastal town of Gulfport, Mississippi he decided to turn south and go to New Orleans. He'd read about the city and thought that since he was so close he might see what it was really like. Upon arriving in the city he was impressed with the activity of the people… that and the extreme heat and humidity. Still, the train station was alive with commotion, people bustling about but he supposed that was true in any large city. He found a cab and asked the driver where he might find a good hotel. The driver took him to a place he called the French Quarter. As the cab pulled in front of a narrow structure that sat on a corner and was four floors tall, the driver turned to him 'You'll like it here," he drawled in an accent Anthony had never heard before although it sounded somewhat French.

"Thank you," Anthony said as he paid the fare and collected his bags. As he stepped through the door a young man took his bags and followed him to the desk.

"Yes, yes, we have one room left," the man behind the counter assured him "It has a private bath and a beautiful balcony overlooking the street. Very nice room, one of our best. You can sit on the balcony and listen to the music at night."

"Music?" Anthony asked.

"Yes, from the clubs. Jazz. You've heard of jazz?"

Anthony acknowledged that he had, paid for three nights and followed the young bellman to the elevator. His room was on the third floor and the clerk had not exaggerated about the room at all. It was a surprisingly nice room and indeed it did have a balcony. The wrought iron work that served as railing was beautifully done, intricate detailing, he noted. The bellboy sat his bags on the stools intended to hold them and waited patiently by the door. "Anything else you need, sir?"

Turning to face the young man, really still a boy, Anthony smiled. "No, thank you," he said as he pulled a coin from his pocket for a tip. The boy's eyes lit as he accepted the coin and he bowed slightly. "You need anything, you ask for Roland. That's me," the boy said before disappearing through the doorway, closing the door softly behind him.

The next couple of hours were spent with Anthony sorting out his clothes. He really was going to have to stay someplace long enough to have them all cleaned, he mused as he contemplated their condition. Perhaps the hotel had a laundry service? He would ask when he went down for dinner. Through the open window he heard soft, mournful wails from a trumpet somewhere down the street. Hanging his last suit jacket in the closet, he stepped to the window to listen. It almost sounded as if someone were crying he thought and curious, he stepped out on the balcony. The sun was sliding down behind some of the taller buildings casting eerie shadows. Listening intently he located the general direction of the trumpet sounds and believed they originated from the lower floors of a building across the street and down the block. From the signage, it appeared to be a nightclub. Anthony had never cared for the atmosphere in such places, too noisy and busy for his tastes. But if that was the kind of music that was played…perhaps he would give it a go, he decided. The music seemed to speak to his mood of the last few months…since the war actually.

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I'm going to leave you hanging there but I promise to pick up it soon. I needed to break things and this was the best place. Do let me know what you are thinking. Meanwhile I'll be typing...


	3. Misadventures

Anthony listened to the music and let his thoughts get lost in it. "Hello," a cheery voice spoke from behind him, surprising him. Turning, he saw a woman standing at the corner of the railing, the door to her room open as was his. "Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you," she said warmly.

His mouth threatening a smile, Anthony took in her appearance. She was tall for a woman, the height of most men. Her hair was a charming shade of brown with what looked to be subtle blonde streaks that picked up the light of the fading sun. Her eyes were alive with mischief; sort of a gray-green color to them that he thought was most unusual. And her smile was infectious. "That's quite alright," Anthony replied finally. "I was just so absorbed in the music…"

"It is beautiful," she agreed, her eyes glancing in the general direction of the sound. "I'm Sadie … Sadie Powell," she said as she stepped nearer, offering her hand as she looked up at him. "I suppose you are not from around here?" Her eyes twinkled in the most delightful way, Anthony thought.

Taking her hand and offering a formal bow and kiss to a lady's hand, Anthony smiled. "Sir Anthony Strallan, Miss Powell." Anthony felt unsure how to address her; she wasn't a young woman, he realized as she came closer. But to address her as a Mrs. When she might still be unmarried…. And if she were married, where was Mr. Powell? So he had guessed.

"Oh it is Mrs. But that doesn't really matter," she answered heavily.

Confused by her answer and her attitude, Anthony's brow furrowed slightly. "Well, I'm quite certain it does to Mr. Powell," he replied.

"You're English, aren't you?" she said with a questioning look. Then she chuckled. "Of course you are… and no, it doesn't matter to him. He came back from the war… well, he's not himself. I'm here this week to visit him. He's in a hospital …an asylum. I don't know why I bother; he doesn't know me anymore. But…I come up from our home in Mississippi once a month anyway."

"Oh, I'm very sorry," Anthony said sincerely. "The war left so much damage in its wake…"

Sadie Powell looked at him gravely and then glanced at his arm in the sling. "That's your souvenir?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," he grimaced as he looked down at his arm. "It's quite useless but…well, I suppose I am luckier than so many others.'

"I'm quite certain Mrs. Strallan thinks she is lucky that you returned to her," she said, using his comment against him.

Anthony drew a deep breath. "Lady Strallan died some years ago," he said quietly, choosing to pass over Edith and the possibility that had been his with her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean…"

"Quite alright," he assured her. "I've been over the shock of it for a long time."

"And there's been no one else?" she inquired.

Glancing away, Anthony sighed. "No, still very much a bachelor," he finally answered. "But surely we can find something much more pleasant to discuss," he offered. "I was about to go down for dinner. Would you care to join me?" Anthony didn't know why he extended the invitation other than he was feeling very lonely.

"I'd love to," she replied happily. "But may I suggest we not dine in the hotel restaurant? I know of a wonderful place just around the corner…"

"Alright then, shall we meet downstairs is say…an hour?" Anthony asked, suddenly feeling more full of life than he had felt in weeks.

He almost didn't recognize Sadie in the hotel lobby. Her dress was not what he might have expected for a refined evening out, but more like something for the clubs with its shorter length and more casual style. It certainly made him feel a bit overdressed, although he was only wearing a tailored suit. Still, he was glad of some company and offered his left arm to her as they met. "Lead the way," he said lightly as she wrapped her arm through is.

Sadie directed him to a place called Antoine's. He had heard that the cuisine was different in New Orleans but wasn't entirely certain what he should expect. As they perused the menu and Sadie tried to explain the various dishes, Anthony felt he was truly on an adventure. After much consideration they decided on the escargots a la bourguignon, baked Alaska and souffled potatoes and he decided he wanted to try the Oysters Rockefeller and Pompano en Papillote as well when Sadie suggested they order several items and share. It was a practice he had never heard of before and at first it bemused him but then he decided it must be another of the American idiosyncrasies and decided it might be fun.

As dinner progressed through the courses, Anthony felt himself relax; probably as much from the extensive wine selection as from anything else, he reflected. Still, it turned into a most enjoyable evening and Anthony was counting himself lucky to have met up with such an interesting person. Although he wasn't a coffee drinker, Sadie convinced him to try the Cafe Brulot with desert and he thanked her again for making such an excellent selection for him.

After dinner, she suggested they walk through the Quarter and he readily agreed. So once again she took his arm and they ambled through the streets, peeking in through open doors and listening to the music coming from the various clubs and bars along the way. It was well after midnight when they returned to the hotel. Anthony, ever the gentleman, walked her to her door and thanked her for the evening.

'Nonsense,' she insisted. "It is I who should thank you. I was feeling sad and sorry until I happened upon you. Thank you for making an excellent ending to my otherwise miserable day."

"Then we have cheered one another," Anthony replied. She seemed to be looking at him expectantly but Anthony couldn't fathom why. "Perhaps we'll see one another again?" he offered, trying to be polite.

She only looked at him more intensely. "Perhaps. Of course, we could ensure it."

Suddenly ill at ease, Anthony stepped back a step. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"What I mean is that you could come inside with me…we could have some coffee perhaps and then breakfast in the morning?"

Like a slap in the face her hint sank into Anthony. "I…I'm sorry. I must have misled you in some way," he almost stuttered. "But I'm …"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were one of _those,_" she winked. Still fumbling for some footing, his mind still faltering, Anthony stumbled right into her unasked question "One of whom?"

"I merely didn't realize you preferred men, since you said you'd been married and all…"

"What?" Anthony's eyes grew wide. "I…I'm not… I don't…I….." His mind simply could not get traction. Finally, in an effort to end the embarrassment, he stepped away. "Well, good night then," he said before he turned to hurry away.

Back in his room, Anthony took several deep breaths to recover his equilibrium. He'd certainly met a few men in the war that we the sort that Sadie had suggested he might be. It wasn't that there was anything _wrong_ with them and they had performed their duties admirably. But Anthony just couldn't imagine, well…feeling that way about another man. What had he done that made Sadie think…He shook his head as if to clear it. "Of course," he mumbled. "She thought you wanted… that dinner was a precursor to…" Anthony had acquaintances, even friends, who were married and had dalliances on the side. For awhile it had even been considered fashionable. But even in those dark days after Maud's death he had never been inclined. Such encounters seemed pointless to him, devoid of any real feelings beyond the physical.

Suddenly feeling even more deflated, he sat down hard on a nearby chair. "Oh Edith,' he whispered. "I just can't imagine anyone else but you…." A blanket of depression descended over him as heavy as the warm humid air of the city. Putting his hand to his forehead, he let the tears fall that even on the best days were a constant threat. "Oh my darling sweet one, I miss you so very much," he spoke softly.

After three days in the city to give the laundry time with his clothes and thankfully no more encounters with Sadie, Anthony decided that the American South was simply to hot for him to bear any longer and he turned north, following the Mississippi River north to Memphis. After his encounter with Sadie Powell he did everything possible to avoid women which at times made him look ridiculous, he knew. But the only woman who interested him, would ever really interest him was miles away, across the ocean and after his deplorable behavior, even father away than that.

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Thank you for the reviews so far. I love reading them! Everyone has such fun and often diverse view points of what has been written and where it might go. Next stop Memphis. I wonder if he can stay out of trouble there;-)


	4. A New Town

He stayed in Memphis two days and walked from his hotel down to a park along the riverfront where he watched the large barges which carried cotton. There were also riverboats that moved up and down the Mississippi River carrying passengers between New Orleans and St. Louis. All of the activity was interesting to watch. Anthony was also fascinated by the large bridge that crossed the river enabling railroad and motor traffic access to both sides. It was a young city, alive with enthusiasm and anticipation. And it made Anthony feel old to watch it.

As he walked back to his hotel the second evening, he passed one of the park benches where a couple sat, looking out over the river. The man's arm was around the shoulder of the woman, holding her affectionately and to Anthony's way of thinking a little too closely for a public setting. Still, the woman didn't seem to mind. The man's hair was gray with streaks of a darker color, perhaps a dark brown. The woman, on the other hand, was obviously younger, her golden hair glowing in the light of the waning sun. She glanced up at him over the man's shoulder and it shocked Anthony to realize she was very young, younger than Edith. She laughed, a tinkling sort of sound, as she leaned over and whispered in the man's ear. The man smiled and leaned to kiss her on her cheek. As Anthony reached the steps to climb up to the street above, he turned briefly back to catch one last glimpse of the couple. They were standing now and he was surprised to realize that the man was missing an arm and was blind as well. Yet the way the young woman looked at him…could she really love a blind old cripple as much as her expression suggested? Anthony returned to his room, his mind racing and his emotions in turmoil.

That night he had another nightmare, only this time it wasn't about the war and he didn't wake screaming in fear. No, he woke sweating and full of need, his entire body throbbing with it because he had dreamed of Edith. His dream kept her face at the forefront of his mind, her dark eyes shining at him, inviting him. She was just out of reach though and his dream turned to a nightmare as he tried to get to her, needing to hold her, to possess her. The mind is a horrible thing, he decided as he sat in his bed, trying to push the dream away. The dream had begun with her fully clothed in the simple but effective green dress she had worn one evening when he had been invited for dinner just before Lady Mary's wedding. She had looked lovely that nigh, his Edith; her hair shimmered in waves and her eyes glowed as she looked at him. But her dress…it was cut just low enough to hint at the treasures just below the fabric, bits of her femininity that Anthony appreciated very much, very much indeed. None of her dresses before had confirmed what he's suspected with regards to her anatomy. Being a gentleman he'd tried, rather unsuccessfully at times, not to linger over that most pleasing aspect of her appearance. The sweet little valley that showed over the top of her dress was quite difficult to ignore. In his dream, he didn't. His mind filled in the details that had been so demurely covered in reality. Having done that, his mind had also conjured the rest of her as she might appear to him if they had been married.

Anthony groaned as the images replayed in his wakeful mind. Realizing the state he was in, he groaned even more. "My god, I haven't had this difficulty since I was a boy," he moaned. He tried to will his body into submission but it just wasn't working. The more he tried not to think of Edith, fully bare and in front of him, inviting him to her, the more the image seemed real. Finally, he rose from his bed and walked to the restroom where he splashed cold water on his face. It cooled him for a moment but only just a moment. Understanding that lying in the dark was not the answer, Anthony pulled a book he had been reading from his bag and settled in a chair by the window, the lamplight casting a warm glow over the pages as he tried to concentrate on the book and not his darling Edith. It was a long night for Anthony Strallan.

From Memphis he crossed into Arkansas, riding a train on the bridge that had captured his attention in the park. Arkansas was lush and green but largely uninhabited as far as he could tell. Roaming through the state and into Missouri, he turned west into Kansas. Eventually he stopped in Wichita. It was well into autumn by then and the weather was decidedly cooler. And there were farms surrounding the city. Perhaps he could learn something of American farming techniques, he thought. Instead of a room at a hotel, he took rooms at Mrs. Jacobson's boarding house, recommended by the locals as the cleanest beds and best grub in town.

Mrs. Jacobson was getting on in years, her gray hair tightly knotted in a bun on the back of her head, her aged eyes sharp, and she had a mouth that looked like it might smile at any moment but never quite did. As she showed the tall Englishman to a suite at the front on her second floor, she wondered how he had ended up in Kansas. Still, his mere presence would add some excitement to their lives, presenting fresh gossip for the ladies in town to chew over.

The rooms were bright and airy Anthony thought, although the furnishings looked somewhat worn. "This will do nicely, I believe," he told Mrs. Jacobson, as he glanced around again. "With your permission, I'll send to the train station for my bags and settle in tonight?"

"Fine with me," she answered gruffly. "Dinner is at 7:30. Bathroom's down the hall; everybody on this floor shares so try not to dawdle. "And er….I didn't catch your name?"

Anthony opened his mouth to reply with his standard introduction but remembered how put off some people were by his title, so he answered simply. "Anthony Strallan," he replied gently.

"Well Mr. Strallan, Mr. Jeremy Britt lives in the room next to ya and at the end of the hall is Miss Lipscomb, the school teacher. I'll tell ya like I told Mr. Britt…there'll be no funny business with Miss Lipscomb. She's respectable and be sure you treat her that way."

Surprised by the old woman's insistence, Anthony answered sincerely. "Yes, of course. I…well, I will be most respectful, I assure you." He'd rather not share his first thought with her. No woman would replace his lovely Edith in his heart. No, Miss Lipscomb had nothing to worry about from him.

"Alright then. First week's rent in advance …" she said, apparently content with the arrangements.

Anthony pulled out the proper notes and handed them to his new landlady. "Oh and where do I post a letter? Since I intend to stay for a few months, I thought I might contact my sister and let her know where I am."

"Post office is downtown. But you can put it in the box downstairs and the postman will pick it up when he comes around. I have some stamps…but … Maybe you should post it from the Post Office, since it'll be going to another country."

"Yes, quite right. Well, that'll be tomorrow's task. I believe I'll spend the rest of the day settling in here," Anthony said with a smile.

Mrs. Jacobson nodded. "I'll send Malcolm to the station for your bags then," she said as she left him in his new quarters

Anthony investigated the room quietly, opening the closet door to find adequate space for his suits. A bureau had several drawers to hold his clothes that folded. And in the corner was a small desk, far too small for him to sit comfortably for any length of time but other than an occasional note to his sister he saw no reason to use it anyway. In the corner was a comfortable chair for sitting and reading. All in all it was a satisfactory room, he reassured himself.

A few minutes later Malcolm knocked on his door. 'Mrs. Jacobson said you'd be staying a few months," he said conversationally.

"Yes…" Anthony answered distractedly as he took his bags from the younger man.

"She says you're all the way from England," the man said excitedly.

"Mmmm…..yes, …yes, England; Yorkshire to be precise."

"What's it like there?" Malcolm asked eagerly.

Something in the other man's voice caused Anthony to pause and put his case down. Looking at him, Anthony realized that while Malcolm was friendly enough, he was rather dull witted…lacking in intelligence in some manner. Understanding that, Anthony focused more closely on the man. "It is very different than here," Anthony said gently. "But very beautiful…rolling hills of lush green."

Malcolm frowned in concentration. "We got green…and there's some hills around."

"Yes, I saw as we came in one the train. And it is very pretty here. But still, different than my home. For instance, although you have quite a few trees, we have acres and acres of them."

"Oh…" Malcolm drawled.

"Tell me Malcolm, do you work for Mrs. Jacobson everyday?"

"Almost… some days she has a lot for me to do and other days…just a little," he answered happily. "But she don't let nobody work on Sundays. She says it is a day of rest."

"Yes, as it should be." Anthony agreed. "But do you suppose on one of the days when Mrs. Jacobson doesn't need you so much you could go around to some of the farms with me? I'm afraid I might get lost if I go out too far on my own and I suspect you know your way about here."

"I do," Malcolm said proudly. "And I can do that…go with you, I mean."

"Right, well….excellent then," Anthony said. "Give me two days to get settled in here and then we shall have an adventure."

Malcolm's face brightened. "An adventure….yeah, sure….two days," he said as he scurried excitedly out of the door.

As he watched Malcolm leave, Anthony wondered why he had asked the younger man to show him around. Odds are the chap wouldn't know his about any better than Anthony did but there was something about him that made Anthony want to help him.


	5. Like Magic

Many, many thanks for your reviews and follows. I've been so caught up in writing and also real life that I haven't had much chance to respond to each one like I'd like to do. Andith shippers are such a supportive bunch! Perhaps it is because we are at war with Julian Fellowes? Anyway, I do hope you enjoy this chapter. Anthony meets someone very special... and that's all the hinting I'm going to do;-)

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After spending the afternoon unpacking and sorting through his things, putting the few pieces of clean clothing away, Anthony ventured downstairs in search of Mrs. Jacobson. He found her in the kitchen.

"Can I help you with something?" she asked as he pushed through the door.

""Well, yes…at least, I hope so. I'm wondering if there is a laundry in town. Most of my clothes are in need of a good cleaning, you see."

Mrs. Jacobson put her spoon down and looked at him as if he'd grown two heads. "Laundry day here is day after tomorrow. Malcolm and me, we'll wash your things…except for your suits…can't wash them. Malcolm can give them a good brushing though. Beyond that, there's a laundry in town next to tha market."

"Oh, that's quite helpful," Anthony replied.

"Malcolm told me what ya said to him…about going out to the farms with you," she said as she picked up her spoon again. "He was all excited about it. But what I wanna know is why?"

Anthony blinked. "Why what?"

"Why you being so nice to Malcolm?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't…be nice to him, I mean?" Anthony was feeling a bit confused.

"He's an idiot. People like you don't usually want nothing to do with poor idiots like Malcolm."

"Oh I don't know; he seems like an amiable fellow and he seems to know his way about. I thought it might suit my purposes and he could make an extra dollar or two. I realize he isn't suited for an in depth discussion of literature or politics but he should be a suitable companion for an afternoon or two."

Mrs. Jacobson was about to say something else and by the look of her face, it wasn't going to be pleasant. But instead her attention was drawn to a tiny little tow headed girl who chose that moment to amble into the kitchen. "Grammy, I'm hungry," the little tike said, not so much as giving Anthony a glance. But the scowl on her face and the seriousness of her tone seemed particularly funny to Anthony and he chuckled.

"Emma, like I told you before….nothing until supper. Won't be much longer now," Mrs. Jacobson barked at the child.

Noting the little girl's crestfallen expression, Anthony leaned down a little. "Hello. I don't believe we've met; I'm Anthony Strallan," he said with a pleasant voice as he peered into her scowling face.

The little girl looked up at him with huge brown eyes, the color of…no he wouldn't think about that…not now…. "Well, tell 'em your name, girl," Mrs. Jacobson snapped.

Swallowing, the little girl then spoke very softly. "My name is Emma and I'm three," she said as she held up three fingers to show him. Then studying his face very carefully, she spoke again. "How old are you?"

Anthony chuckled again as he heard Mrs. Jacobson gasp. "Emma, you know better than that….you don't go asking grown people their age. Now you run along and leave Mr. Strallan alone." The little girl looked up at the woman fearfully. "Yes'm "and then bolted through the door.

Mrs. Jacobson gave Anthony a vexed look. "Sorry about that….she can be a little pest when she sets her mind to it," she said.

"Think nothing of it," Anthony smiled. "She is your granddaughter?"

"Yes, my daughter's child. Agnes and her husband were killed last winter in an accident with the wagon. So Emma's been living with me since. Her father's people don't want her and she tests me daily but somebody's gotta look after her."

Dinner proved to be a quiet affair. Anthony met Miss Lipscomb and Mr. Britt as well as Mr. and Mrs. Taylor who had a small apartment on the floor above him. But once the introductions were made everyone seemed to settle into their own thoughts. By the time the last course was consumed, Anthony was ready to escape, feeling very much like an odd duck. So as soon as was polite, he excused himself and headed to his room. It was only a few minutes later when he heard a soft knock on his door.

Slipping back into his suit coat that he'd just taken off, Anthony opened the door to find Emma looking up at him. "Hello," he said, somewhat puzzled by her presence.

Peering past his legs and into his room, she appeared to be looking for something. Then she cast her large eyes back up at him. "Is there something you need?" Anthony asked.

Emma shook her head in the negative but stood still. "Are you lost?" he tried again. Again she shook her head, no. Perplexed, he finally stepped back. "Would you like to come in?"

Emma leaned forward and scanned the room before stepping through the doorway. Then carefully she walked to the middle of the room, turned around twice and then looked back at Anthony. "They not here."

"Who isn't here?" he asked, still confused.

"The fairies," she answered quite seriously.

"Fairies?"

"Unh huh… Mr. Britt says you came from Fairyland…all the way 'cross the oshun."

Leaving the door open, Anthony strode across the room and sat in the corner chair. "Well, I did come across the ocean…from England. And I suppose there might be a few fairies left there, although I hear there are quite a few more in Ireland. But the place I came from is called Yorkshire."

Emma inched her way closer until she was standing at his knees. "You don't know no fairies?"

"I'm afraid I haven't met any, but I have met a few princesses and even a queen once or twice. Do they count?"

"That's different," Emma said disappointedly.

"They are? However so?"

"Fairies got magic…" Emma explained, her face lighting up.

Oh my god, Anthony thought as he looked at the little sprite, with her coloring and her eyes…she could have been ….no…no, don't think like that…. "Why you sad?" Emma's little voice asked, jarring Anthony out of his musings.

"What? Oh…I'm not. I was just remembering…"

"What you 'membering?" She asked curiously.

"Oh, I did know a lady once who I suppose might have been a fairy. Her name was Edith and she was very beautiful and sweet. And she did work magic."

"What kinda magic? What'd she do?" the girl asked excitedly.

"Well, a long time ago, I was hurt and very scared, you see. I couldn't quite seem to find my way. I was so sad and lonely that I thought I might die. And then one afternoon I met up with Lady Edith and she smiled at me and it was as if everything bad just vanished. A few days later, the darkness was coming back and she appeared again. It surprised me but of course, I was very glad to see her since I was feeling quite lost again. And she insisted on helping me. And she would do that every few days, suddenly appear and brighten my life. Until finally there were no more dark days and I wasn't sad or lonely anymore and I felt strong again."

"So what'd you do with her?"

"Do with her?" Anthony asked, confused.

"Why didn't you bring her with you?"

"Well, you see….the thing about fairies is that you can't hold onto them; they must be free to work their magic. And so…I set her free."

"But aren't you sad now…since she doesn't come?"

"Some days I am very sad; I do miss her very much. But I am happy knowing that she is free and doing what she was meant to do."

"Oh." Emma's eyes moved around Anthony as if she were contemplating his truthfulness. After a moment, she mashed her lips together thoughtfully and her eyes settled on his sling. "Why you got that? Mr. Britt had that a while back 'cause he hurted his arm. You hurt your arm?"

Trying not to show his frustration with his arm, Anthony still let a small sigh escape. "Actually I did hurt my arm…in the war."

"You was in a war?" she asked, her eyes peering up at him again. The worried expression on her face reminded him so much of Edith that it sent pain through his chest.

"Yes, I was. I was injured just about the time you were born. How do you know about the war?"

"Mr. Britt, he says he was in the war. He said it was bad…ugly mean people was in the war."

"Yes, he's right; the war was ugly and mean."

"But when's your arm gonna get better?" she asked innocently.

"It isn't…going to get better, I mean." Anthony glanced down at the useless thing and grimaced. "I was shot in the shoulder and the bullet did a lot of damage. So now my arm doesn't work."

"Does it hurt?" She asked anxiously.

'Sometimes, but not as much as it did at first. Keeping it in this sling seems to help."

Emma scooted closer so that her arms were resting on his knees. She leaned over and very gently touched his useless hand inside the sling. He heard her mumble something and then she looked up at him brightly. "It feel better now?"

"Feel better?" Anthony asked, constantly confused by this child.

"Yeah…I did some magic on it for it to feel better."

Touched by the child's tenderness, Anthony smiled. "Why yes, I think it is feeling a bit better."

Emma's smile lit her face. "You know any stories?" she asked.

"Stories? Yes, I suppose I remember one or two…" Again the child smiled at him. Then without warning, she climbed into his lap, settled there and rested her head against his chest. "Tell me a story," she demanded softly.

Chuckling at the strange turn of events, Anthony tried to remember a story that would be appropriate for a little girl. "Well, once there was a boy named Arthur," he began. "And one day while he was in the woods a magician appeared to him named Merlin…" and Anthony told her the story of how Merlin and Arthur met. After a few minutes he realized Emma was asleep which made Anthony wonder what he should do next. With only one arm he couldn't pick the child up safely so quietly he wrapped his left arm around her, cradled her to him, and watched her sleep.

Not long after he heard shuffling steps in the hall. Mrs. Jacobson stopped in his doorway and saw the child in his arms. "What's she doing…she been pestering ya Mr. Strallan?" she barked.

"Not at all," he answered softly. "But she fell asleep and I'm afraid I can't lift her so we've just been sitting here."

Mrs. Jacobson walked over and deftly took the girl from his lap. "She's getting' too big for me to be hauling her around anymore," the woman said. "I'll talk to her in the morning to be sure she doesn't come pestering ya again."

"No really, we had a nice little chat and then she asked if I know any stories. She really wasn't a bother. Please don't scold her," Anthony replied.

Looking at him skeptically, she nodded. "All right, if you say so. But she can be a nuisance…"

Anthony smiled down at the little girl. "She's very charming, Mrs. Jacobson."

"Humfph…" she said as she carried the child from his room.

Once the child was gone, Anthony suddenly felt very lonely. He closed the door and then went to the desk. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out a small photograph and smiled at the picture of Edith. "Oh my sweet, she could've been our child…" Then with a deep sigh, he laid the photo back in the drawer. "If only things had been different…." He closed the drawer and then looked out into the darkness on the other side of the window. "I hope you are happy my dearest. Good night." Slowly he prepared for bed, climbed in, and closed his eyes hoping he wouldn't dream because his dreams were usually of Edith and it was too painful to wake from them.


	6. Precious Gifts

Over the next few weeks Anthony settled into his temporary life in Kansas. Thursdays became his regular day to go out into the countryside, usually accompanied by Malcolm, to visit with the farmers. At first they had been suspicious of the curious foreigner who asked so many questions. Secretly they were amused by his climbing over what little machinery they had; some still using horse and plow in the fields. But as he got to know a few better and better, they felt his honest desire to learn more about how they farmed and in turn, he had a suggestion or two that were useful on their farms. Mr. Britt came to his room in the night occasionally when Anthony had another bout of terrors. The man was very kind as he talked Anthony through them and Anthony was most grateful, even if chagrinned.

Little Emma visited his room regularly in the evenings, usually demanding another story but also full of curiosity about him and where he came from. At first Mrs. Jacobson had been suspicious of his attentiveness to the little girl but as time passed she grew to trust him. She had warned Anthony to respect Miss Lipscomb but as Anthony discovered, someone should have warned him about the school teacher. She obviously viewed the nice English gentleman as husband material and continually tried to find ways to ensnare him, much to the amusement of everyone else living in the house. Amused at first, Anthony was growing weary of the woman's constant attempts. One thing her pursuit did however was force him to reconsider his suitability as a spouse.

His insecurity about the topic had played heavily into his flight from the altar, Edith's words about loving him because of his injury ringing in his ears. But now, as he worked to avoid the attentions of Miss Lipscomb he began to see that perhaps he wasn't quite as hopeless as a potential husband as he had thought. Of course, there was only one woman who he could imagine spending his life with and he had ruined that opportunity, so the point was moot. Still Miss Lipscomb, although a nuisance, did wonders for his self-esteem.

Cool weather was turning to cold and Mrs. Jacobson was complaining that soon the snow would begin. Having experienced snowy winters at Locksley, Anthony thought he had been prepared for a midwestern winter, but as the American Thanksgiving holiday came and went and a blanket of snow settled over the region, he realized he was not. Consequently, he spent long days in his room reading, or sometimes writing down his collected thoughts on his conversations with the farmers. It was on these afternoons that he suffered the most. His shoulder ached from the cold as did his heart as his thoughts inevitably turned to Edith.

Malcolm would come to him some afternoons full of questions about England and once even brought a book to show him. It was a simple picture book but had some illustrations of English countryside. There were also some prints from some British artists, most showing dogs or horses. The topic seemed to fascinate Malcolm and it pleased Anthony to be able to talk about home.

One afternoon, just before Christmas, Anthony was sitting in the comfortable chair in his room. He'd put down the book he was attempting to read and had taken Edith's picture from his desk drawer and was simply staring at it, letting his mind fill with his memories of her. Emma wandered in and climbed into his lap, which seemed to be becoming her favorite place. Her studious brown eyes gazed down at the picture and then up at his face. "Who that?"

Sadly Anthony's mouth twitched into an awkward smile that spoke more of his pain that any amusement he might have felt at the child's inquisitiveness. "That's Lady Edith," he murmured softly.

"Your fairy?" the child asked.

"Yes," he whispered…"yes, indeed…"

Emma looked again at the picture. "She's pretty."

"Yes, she is…very…and a spirit that matches…"

Miss Lipscomb appeared in his doorway and watched him. "Are you alright, Mr. Strallan? You seem to be sad this afternoon."

Emma looked up as Miss Lipscomb's voice startled Anthony out of his thoughts. "He misses his fairy," the girl announced.

"Fairy?" the teacher wanted to know, her expression reflecting her disbelief.

"Yep, she made magic and helped his hurt go away and he misses her," Emma explained seriously.

Miss Lipscomb scowled. "Seems to me she's the cause of his …hurt," she said dubiously.

Anthony's eyes glanced up at the woman and seeing her shrewish expression, he decided that no matter what he might have felt before, he didn't like the woman and never could. "On the contrary," he said quietly, "I caused her a great deal of pain and it is that which makes me sad. Now if you'll excuse us, Miss Lipscomb, it is story time for Emma." The woman grunted derisively and walked away. As he watched her leave, he marveled at how quickly his feelings of ambivalence towards the woman had changed to intense dislike.

Christmas was awkward around the boarding house. Everyone felt they should be doing something to celebrate yet no one felt close enough to the others to share in the usual warmth of the holiday. Anthony attended church, as had always been his custom, and then was content with the notion of settling into his chair with a book for the afternoon. But Emma, it seemed, had other plans.

Nudging past his door she approached him, hands behind her back, her eyes shining up at him with excitement. Looking up from his page, Anthony noted her expression and smiled. "And to what do I the pleasure…" he asked

"Uh?" she answered, obviously not understanding his question.

"I would have thought you'd be spending the afternoon with your grandmother," he said softly.

"She said for me to let her rest," Emma admitted. "And I brung you your present. I couldn't give it to you earlier because Grammy said I shouldn't be gibbing no presents."

"I don't want you to get into trouble, Emma. If your grandmother said…"

"But I wanna gib it to ya. Grammy just doesn't know…"

"Know what?" Anthony asked, perplexed by the child as usual.

"That I love you…" she answered plainly.

Anthony's heart constricted. The child's innocence astounded him and left him speechless. He no longer expected love, even from one as small as Emma. "I think that is the best present I could ever receive for Christmas," he said gently.

"Oh that's not your present," she replied quickly, looking at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"It isn't?" Anthony couldn't imagine what sort of gift the child would be capable of giving.

"No…this is," she said as she pulled a small box from behind her back.

Carefully Anthony took the box from her. Handling it like it contained great treasure he lifted the top to find a stone nestled in newspaper. Confused, he looked from the small rock to Emma's face. Seeing her excitement he realized he must be very careful with his response. So gently he reached inside to pick the rock up and then held it in his hand to admire it.

"It's pretty," Emma said proudly. "You like pretty."

"It is…beautiful," Anthony conceded as he looked at the rock. It did indeed have striations in it that gave it interest, lines of brown and rust mixed with black. There were stripes of quartz in the stone that gave it a luster, as well.

"It is a magic rock," Emma said quite seriously. "Since your fairy doesn't visit you anymore, if you rub the shiny part it will make you happy."

Anthony smiled at her confidence. "Yes, perhaps. But whether it is magic or not, it will make me think of you whenever I look at it and that will make me happy."

The little girl beamed as she stood there. Clearly she was starved for kindness. "Would you like a story?" Anthony asked.

Nodding she scrambled into his lap and settled in her customary spot, leaning against his chest in the crook of his left arm. "Oh but wait," he exclaimed. I seem to have forgotten something…" He reached for a small box sitting on his table next to the chair. "This is for you. Happy Christmas, Emma."

Emma's eyes grew wide as she took the box. No one had given her a real present before. Grammy had given her special cookies for Christmas and Malcolm gave her a piece of candy, but this was different. The box was beautifully wrapped with ribbon and a bow. She sat absolutely still staring at the box as if it might disappear at any moment.

"Well, aren't you going to open it?" Anthony asked the child.

Turning her face up to look at him, Emma's eyes showed her excitement. "It's so pretty."

"But don't you want to see what is inside?" He was struck by how little this child had in her life.

Very carefully Emma began to unwrap her present. Her meticulousness amused Anthony as he was accustomed to seeing people tear into gifts. Once she had the paper undone, Emma paused and then lifted the top of the box. Inside, wrapped in tissue, was a doll. Anthony had thought it to be plain and not very exciting but he had not been able to think of anything else that would be appropriate to give the little girl. And as he had not seen her with any toys of any kind, he thought she might like it. But as she lifted the baby doll from the box, her eyes shining and her mouth grinning widely, he realized how much he had underestimated the value of the doll. She looked at the little thing reverently and then up at him again. "For me?" she whispered.

Anthony chuckled. "Well I certainly don't need it. Besides, I think the baby would do much better with you to care for it."

Emma looked at him, tilting her head. "You don't like babies?"

"Well it isn't that…its just…well…" Anthony hesitated, closing his eyes to fight back the emotion welling inside of him. He might have had a baby of his own by now, or at least one on the way if… oh Edith, his heart cried. But he mustn't think about that… and his mind turned back the years even further. "I did have one once long ago, a little boy."

"Why he's not with you now?"

"Well, he died you see…not long after his mother died."

Seeing the tears resting in his eyes, Emma reached up to touch his face. "It makes you sad?"

Touched by her simple care, Anthony couldn't answer immediately. Finally, giving her one of his nervous smiles he nodded. "Yes, it does. I think I would have liked being a father very much," he confided.

"I wish you was my daddy," Emma said softly as she curled into him again, holding her baby doll close to her. Anthony held her gently, overcome by her proclamation. They sat quietly for a few moments before he could start the story.

That evening he quietly sought out Mrs. Jacobson and gave her a small present. It was not much but the woman was thrilled by her new pair of gloves. Anthony had noticed hers a few weeks before; the fingers had worn through at the ends. He also handed a package to Malcolm. The young man's eyes became huge as he realized the box was for him. Anthony didn't think anyone could smile broader than Malcolm did in that moment. Malcolm yelped with glee as he pulled a very British looking deer stalker cap out of the box and put it on his head. "It's like the one in the book," he exclaimed. Anthony smiled, pleased that his gifts were so warmly received. For a few moments it almost felt like Christmas to him. But that night, he dreamed of Edith again and he realized that no gift could compare to the one she had tried to give to him…herself.

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We had so many Andith stories going for awhile and not so many now. I feel like I'm in withdrawal, lol.

I do really appreciate reviews. They let me know if I'm hitting the mark or if I'm completely insane. Besides, as anyone who writes fanfics knows, they feed the effort. So if you have a moment, please drop a line a two and let me know what you think;-) Meantime, I do hope everyone has a happy weekend.


	7. A New Plan

Winter weather kept Anthony close to town as the new year began. So instead of outings with Malcolm on Thursdays, he and Emma made trips to the library on Tuesdays. He had run out of stories to tell the child and thought perhaps they could find some story books that he could read to her. Mrs. Jacobson had been skeptical at first, firmly believing Emma was being a nuisance but after seeing them come back several Tuesdays loaded with books, some story books and some that Mr. Strallan obviously intended for his own reading, she simply accepted the bond that had formed between the two.

Emma spent more and more time visiting Anthony when he was at home. Whenever Mrs. Jacobson couldn't find the child, she went straight to his room where she would find them reading or on some afternoons, napping. Anthony was even teaching Emma the beginning skills for her to read. Mrs. Jacobson would shake her head and shrug but left them alone. The closeness with the little girl seemed to ease Anthony's nightmares and the terrors became a rare event.

Winter blossomed into spring and Anthony began to think he should return to England. He mentioned it to Mrs. Jacobson one morning. She looked up sharply at him, mashed her lips together and frowned in consternation. 'Oh…I guess I knew it was coming but I was hoping…" she looked away, obviously distressed.

"Hoping what, Mrs. Jacobson?"

"It's just…well, you and Emma get along and…" she looked straight into his eyes, "and I'm gonna need somebody to take her."

"Take her? Take her where?" He asked, puzzled.

Mrs. Jacobson's eyes filled with tears. "I'm dying Mr. Strallan. Doc says maybe three, maybe four more months and I'm gone. The child's got nobody else. Her father's family don't want her and there's only me. And I was hoping you'd be staying around awhile and then you'd take her. She seems…well, you're special to her. I don't know nobody else to ask and I know it ain't what you came here for but…I was hoping."

Stunned, Anthony sat across from her frozen. He heard what she was saying but couldn't quite grasp it all. Sweet little Emma, who had so little in life, was about to lose what little she did have. But for him to take on the responsibility…he was barely able to function himself, how could he care for a child…a little girl at that? But if he didn't, then what would happen to her? Reaching across, he covered Mrs. Jacobson's worn hand with his. "I'll think about it, Mrs. Jacobson. I won't answer you just now, if that's alright; but I will think about it."

Mrs. Jacobson smiled wearily. "Thank you. I know its askin' a lot but…well, I also know you'd take care of her. And she loves you like you was kin."

Anthony did consider Mrs. Jacobson's request. He even consulted an attorney in town. Then he spent several days trying to decide if he could even keep up with the child and of course, there was the question of her adapting to life in Yorkshire as his ward, even if his rank was lower and he lived more the life of a country gentleman than an aristocrat there would be expectations placed on her. He needed to be certain he was prepared to help her navigate all of it. But of course, Mrs. Jacobson had no idea of that side of the question. In her eyes he was simply Mr. Strallan, a somewhat odd Englishman to whom her granddaughter had become attached. A week passed before he returned to her with an answer.

"I've considered your proposal, Mrs. Jacobson. You realize that I would take her back to England with me?"

"I do," she nodded firmly. "I'm hoping you'd wait until…until after…"

"Yes, of course. But it will be a very different life there. Are you certain that is what you wish for her?"

Mrs. Jacobson looked at him as if he had two heads. "Whatever it is, it'll be better'n what she'll have here. They'll take her off to one of them orphanages and no tellin' what'll happen then. She might get taken by a good family but like as not she'll grow up at the orphanage or worse, she'll end up as some farmer's laborer….keepin'his house or looking after the barn animals or some such as that. Ain't a good life for her if you don't take her."

Anthony breathed deeply. "Well, I have spoken to an attorney. And I will take her…as my ward. I'll raise her as a proper young English lady but I have no plans for adoption."

Mrs. Jacobson blinked and then eyed him curiously. "Why not?"

"It is complicated, Mrs. Jacobson. But I'm titled and as such, I must be very careful about the family line. As of now I have no children and no plans for any. Consequently, the title will die with me unless a distant relative appears to claim it. A portion of my estate will fall to Emma when she's of age but I won't adopt her. She will be a daughter of my heart but not in name."

Mrs. Jacobson looked completely lost in his words but finally nodded. "I ken see she'll be taken care of; that's all I ask. Thank you Mr. Strallan."

Anthony smiled awkwardly. "Since…well, in a way we will be family…perhaps you might call me Anthony?"

"But you said you got a title?"

"Yes, well…I'm a baronet so most people refer to me as Sir Anthony. But here, it seems a bit… unnecessary."

"Well then…Anthony, I'm Clarissa."

"So Clarissa, what should we tell our little lady about this arrangement?"

"Not tellin' her a thing just yet," Clarissa declared. "Child's known too much death and sorrow already in her life. Let's give her a few more weeks without adding to it."

Anthony bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. "As you wish."

Another month passed but Anthony was more intentional in his afternoons with Emma. He needed to get used to feeling the responsibility of her since he'd had no one to care for in years. A week into the second month of the arrangement they celebrated Emma's fourth birthday. Anthony had asked her what she might like for her birthday and the little one, as forthright as always, smiled up at him hopefully. "Could I hab…there's a dress in the store when we go to the libary…you know, where we sometimes stop for candy. It's…it's purple and…" her eyes took on a far away expression. "It looks like a fairy princess dress."

Anthony smiled. "Well, I don't know about a fairy princess, but every young lady should have a proper dress or two. Shall we go shopping for the perfect dress then?"

Emma's eyes lit and she smiled widely. "Can we?"

Taking in her appearance, Anthony concluded that some preparations were called for. "You'll need a bath first,' he suggested. "Shops aren't very happy to see anyone shopping for clothes if they've not had a bath."

Emma ran from the room, calling to her grandmother. Clarissa appeared at his door. "Emma says you're takin' her to buy a dress?"

"Yes, it is what she has requested for her birthday. Besides, she'll need travelling clothes when the time comes. But if you are too tired to help her now, we could go another day."

With a sigh, Clarissa nodded. "I ain't too tired. I'll get Malcolm to help me with the water and then we'll get her scrubbed up." She turned to leave.

"Oh Clarissa…would you like to accompany us? We could make an outing of it; perhaps have lunch at that little restaurant near the library?"

Clarissa's eyes brightened and for a moment Anthony could see the similarity between grandmother and granddaughter. "Thank you. Guess I got me some scrubbing up to do too." She hustled out of the room, moving more quickly than Anthony thought he'd ever seem from her before.

Almost two hours passed before they left on the shopping excursion. Both of the ladies, the little one and the older one were properly scrubbed and fresh in appearance, Anthony noted. He'd arranged a cab, knowing the walk might be too much for Clarissa and was amused by her reaction. "Ain't never gone in one of those before," she said happily after they arrived at the store and climbed out.

"We'll hail one for our trip back as well," Anthony told her. "Wouldn't do to drop any o our packages along the way,' he said with a wink. Clarissa smiled happily, almost as happily as Emma was smiling.

Emma pointed out her "princess" dress and the clerk helped them find one in the child's size. Then Anthony surprised them all by suggesting she pick out two more dresses. Once the dress selection was complete, the clerk suggested a new pair of shoes to go with the new dresses. Anthony nodded and they made a selection for Emma's feet too.

Then Anthony turned to Clarissa. "Now it is your turn," he smiled.

"My turn…oh goodness, no. You've done enough, buying all this for Emma.

Looking down at her, catching her eyes with his, he spoke softly. "You deserve to feel like a princess as well. And when the time comes, you'll have a nice frock for…well, to rest in."

Clarissa looked at him, stunned. "I…don't know what to say," she muttered. "Been a long time since I had a new anything. But I'll confess, I would like something decent to be bu…" she looked down at Emma who was watching closely, "to wear. Thank you."

"Think nothing of it, " Anthony said tenderly. He watched contentedly while Clarissa made her selection, a dark purple dress that while it looked matronly, also looked stylish. Certainly more so than the well worn gray dress she was wearing; it was her best, Anthony guessed.

Once the packages were wrapped up, they trio made their way down the street to the little restaurant. Emma was excited, having never eaten anywhere but in her Grammy's kitchen before. Clarissa seemed to enjoy her meal, which made Anthony enjoy his all the more. Once the main course was done, he ordered cake and ice cream to celebrate Emma's birthday.

The excitement proved too much for Emma and she fell asleep in the cab as they rode back to the boarding house. Once the cabbie had been paid and the packages were safely inside, Clarissa turned to Anthony. "Thank you, Mr. Stra…" His glare of disapproval cut her off. "I mean Anthony," she quickly said. "Emma's never had such a special day and…well, I can't remember one in years. And the dress…it's beautiful and I'll feel proper now, going to meet my maker in it."

Anthony sighed. "Clarissa, it has been a very special day for me as well. Thank you for allowing me to do these things for you."

That night after supper, Emma made her way to Anthony's room. He read her a story and then she curled into his lap, nestled against him. "You gonna marry my Grammy?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" Anthony asked.

"Miss Lipscomb said you was courtin' my Grammy; that like as not you'd marry her. Would that make you my Grampy?"

Anthony chuckled. "No, Miss Lipscomb has it all wrong. Your Grandmother and I are friends, it's true. But my heart belongs to another, as you've already guessed. It wouldn't be fair of me to court your grandmother, would it? She deserves someone who will love her wholeheartedly, don't you think."

"And she had that already," Clarissa said from the doorway. "Emma, your grandpa was the only man I could ever love in that way. Mr. Strallan is a very good friend and is very kind to us, but he's right…it wouldn't be fair to either of us to make anything more out of it. Besides, I'm much too old for him. He needs a younger woman…one that can keep up with them long strides of his when those legs get going."

Emma giggled. Then suddenly she got very quiet and looked up at Anthony. "When I grow up, I can keep up. When I'm all grown up you can marry me," she proclaimed happily.

With a responding chuckle Anthony replied. "My darling little one, I'll be much too old by then. You'll need a young man who can keep up with you."

Emma sighed heavily. "I don't understand…"

Clarissa laughed from the door as Anthony tousled her hair. "And neither your grandmother nor I want you to for a very long time," he teased.

* * *

Everyone was so kind with their comments for the last chapter that I hurried to pull this one together. I have a rough (very rough) and loosing stinged together story written out so I have an idea where it is going but haven't filled in the details on any of it. So I spend time at work (when the boss isn't around;-) filling in and tweaking. Everyone thinks I'm so busy at my keyboard and I am...just not with what they believe I am doing;-) Anyway, I do hope yu enjoyed this installment.


	8. Beginnings and Endings

Spring warmed into summer and illness was slowly claiming Clarissa. Anthony did what little he could for her and tried to keep Emma occupied so that Carissa would have the rest she needed. The other tenants noticed the changes and took their cues, packing and leaving throughout the months until it was only Anthony left. He wasn't sorry to see Miss Lipscomb leave but knew the lack of income weighed on Clarissa. "Don't worry," he consoled her one evening as she worried about debts that would be left. "The house can be sold to pay all that. Emma won't need it if she's to go with me."

Clarissa had looked stunned. "But I can't ask you to take her on with nothing…"

He covered her hand with his own and smiled. "I'm quite alone in the world with a profitable estate. I don't think we shall starve. Now stop worrying. Emma will be fine and your debts will be settled." Clarissa smiled at him warmly. "Emma sure knows how to pick 'em," she teased.

Anthony had seen planes over the battlefields during the war and they had fascinated him. Once or twice he'd even convinced pilots to take him for a ride, even though the seating had been awkward. It had been thrilling, soaring so high above the ground if even for just a few minutes. So it was with interest that he noted a small aircraft industry growing in Wichita.

In 1920 a local oilmen Jake Mollendick and Billy Burke brought the young barnstormer and aircraft builder Matty Laird to Wichita to build airplanes from his design. The Laird Swallow became an instant success as the first successful commercial airplane manufactured in the United States. The biplane was faster and more useful than any of the planes produced for the war.

Another young barnstormer, Walter Beech had migrated to Wichita and had been hired by the new aircraft company. Along with his other duties, Beech provided customers with demonstration rides. Excited when he read about it in the paper, Anthony made his way to the airfield to see a demonstration and perhaps even get a ride in one of the new planes. Beech and Laird were amused when Anthony took as much interest in the mechanics of the plane as in actually flying in it. Within a few weeks time he was a regular around the hangers, talking and asking questions.

Anthony often brought Malcolm along and soon he too was poking around the planes, fascinated. Beech took a liking to Malcolm and began showing him some simple ways he could help around the hanger and before long Laird noticed the young man's enthusiasm. Eventually Beech and Laird were offering Malcolm a job as their "clean-up man" which Malcolm hesitantly accepted after Anthony told him that Clarissa would think it a wonderful idea. As much as he was enjoying the time spent at the hangers, Anthony was also happy to see Malcolm settled in new surroundings with people who understood the scope of his abilities. It was easy to see that Malcolm was able to add something to the effort and was excited to do so.

A friendship grew between Beech and Anthony and a few years later, Anthony would be one of the investors in Beech's aircraft company. But neither man knew or suspected that they would have a long relationship at the time. Time spent at the hangers was relief for Anthony as he and Clarissa waited for the inevitable. It also distracted him from other thoughts, ones of Edith and also of the war. Consequently, he was sleeping rather well and feeling healthier than he had since he'd been wounded.

It was late August when Clarissa passed. She had delayed telling Emma until just two weeks before her death, sparing the child the worry over something she didn't fully understand. Emma had been excited about going to live with Anthony in England; she didn't understand that her grandmother wouldn't be there when she came back. Consequently, it was left to Anthony to try to explain to her over and over why she could not longer see her grandmother and why she was in the box in the ground. He learned that her parents were merely concepts to her. She really didn't remember them at all and so Grammy was the only one with whom she had any sense of permanency. As the house was sold and they moved to a hotel downtown, Emma kept asking when they would go back to her house, she wanted to see Grammy. Finally, on the last day of September, the day before they were to leave for New York, Anthony took her back to the house. When she saw the new owners it finally came to her. Everything in her little world had changed.

Anthony advertised and hired a woman to travel to New York with them but she had no interest in continuing to England. Reasonably sure that finding a woman to travel to England would not be a problem once they were in New York, he was relieved to have someone help with Emma in the meantime. But he remained close, always cognizant of the child's outbursts and also her complete dependence on him.

The arrangements were made and they set out for New York, by way of Chicago. Anthony immediately regretted the decision to travel through the city when he read the evening paper. Crime was rampant it seemed, and murder commonplace. It was quite frightening. Crime happened in England, of course, but the violent nature of the crime in Chicago unsettled him. Even in London. such violence was unusual. He kept Emma in the hotel, along with Mrs. Williams and arranged to change their tickets to New York. Had he been on his own, he might have lingered to take in the city but he wasn't willing to risk Emma or Mrs. Williams being hurt. As a result, they were on their way to New York earlier than expected and would have a few days there before their ship sailed for home.

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Hope you enjoyed a little. This was sort of a "cleaning up loose ends and setting up for the next chapter" kind of chapter. Sorry it took me so long to post again but my story for the EAST alliance took front seat last week. Hopefully I'll have more of this one by the end of the week.


	9. An Uncomfortably Familiar Face

Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews, follows and alerts. You keep me going;-) Anthony has a little surprise when they get to New York!

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They arrived in New York in early October. The colors of autumn were in full bloom and Anthony, Emma, and sometimes Mrs. Williams took leisurely walks in Central Park while Anthony searched for a woman to accompany them to England. It was a blustery, chilly day when he met up with Martha Levinson, Edith's grandmother. "Sir Anthony," she exclaimed when she saw him a few feet away from her bench.

Hearing his name, he turned; surprised that anyone here would know him. His heart plummeted when he realized who was calling to him. Still, decorum dictated that he respond so he led Emma over to the woman's bench. "Mrs. Levinson," he said in greeting. "How nice to see you…and unexpected."

"Oh come now, Sir Anthony….surely you knew that I live here?"

"Well yes, of course. I just…well, still it is a pleasant surprise to meet up with you."

Martha Levinson's attention shifted from his face to the little girl clinging to his trouser leg, half hidden behind him. "And who do we have here?"

"Mrs. Levinson, may I present Emma Meyer." Then coaxing Emma, he spoke softly, "Emma please say hello to Mrs. Levinson."

Emma peeked around his leg, her large brown eyes staring up in awe. "Hello," she managed to whisper.

Martha Levinson looked at the child, frowning as she did. "I wasn't aware that you had children," she said suspiciously.

Anthony shifted his weight slightly as he felt the heat of her inquiry. "Emma is my ward. It is a rather long story but she has recently been orphaned and I'm taking her home to live at Locksley with me." Inwardly he was somewhere between seething at the impertinence of the woman and cringing at her inspection.

Finally Martha Levinson shrugged. "You realize that child could be mistaken for yours, don't you….yours and Edith's?

Anthony swallowed uncomfortably. "She does…remind me of Lady Edith at times…not her manner but….the way she looks at me sometimes. It…it is quite unsettling…"

"I should think so. Certainly gave me a start. But she isn't…yours and Edith's, I mean?" The woman's eyes bore into him.

"Most certainly not! I would not….Lady Edith is too dear to me for me to …and besides, she would never…I resent your implication, Mrs. Levinson."

Martha chuckled. "I thought so…"

Anthony looked at her, perplexed. "I'm afraid I'm at a loss," he said as he began to calm down.

"You're still in love with her…despite what you did. You've loved her all along. I could see it on those evenings at Downton. Tell me, Sir Anthony, why did you leave her as you did?"

"I…I've explained to Edith. And I do not feel compelled to explain myself to anyone else. She understands; or at least, I hope she does."

"She does not, Sir Anthony. She's still very hurt by your actions. And losing Sybil on top of that …and now Matthew… well, she's devastated. The whole family is."

"What?" he asked, stunned. 'Losing Lady Sybil? I don't understand. And Mr. Crawley?"

"Yes. How could you not have heard?"

"I've been away for some time…"

"Sybil died in childbirth. And Matthew was killed in a motor car accident, the very day Mary gave birth to their son."

Anthony gasped in disbelief. "Both of them are gone?"

"Yes. And my dear Cora now has two grandbabies that have only one parent. And Edith, if I read her letters correctly is miserable. Oh, she doesn't say it in so many words but I can read between the lines."

Looking away momentarily, Anthony tried to grasp all that he'd just been told. 'I thought…well by now she would have met someone…'

Martha was surprised by the level of anguish in his voice. "She has…but he isn't you, Sir Anthony. Tell me, exactly what was it you thought you were saving her from when you walked away? I'm afraid I don't understand. You see, as she explained to Robert after he'd chased you away, she really doesn't have many options. What she didn't tell him but it was quite evident was that she adored you."

His insides churning, Anthony stared at her. "She …she can do better than me. She _deserves _better than me."

"What she deserves is happiness and you've taken that away from her. Now she has settled for some undefined relationship with a man who reminds her of you but he isn't you. Does that sound as if she is happy?"

Closing his eyes, full of remorse and also longing, he sighed. "No, it doesn't," he whispered.

"Go back to England. Go back to her. Talk to her, Sir Anthony. Tell her how you feel, how you really feel. Oh, I know you British are all for restrained emotions and all that but I think this is not the time for it. Let her tell you how she feels; make her tell you. She's still angry, you know. But under it, she still loves you. Let her tell you that. And tell her how miserable you are."

He looked at her, his mouth agape.

"Oh don't act so surprised. It is easy to see that you've not had an easy time and that you are as miserable as she. Tell her!"

Looking up, Martha saw a man approaching. "Ah, there's my driver. I would invite you to dinner but alas, I have other obligations this evening. But perhaps while you are here we might talk again? Where are you staying?"

Anthony told her and said good-bye. Martha waved at them as she walked away, leaving Anthony in turmoil. Staring after her, he took a moment to collect himself before looking down at Emma." Shall we head back?"

Slipping her small hand in his, she stayed close as they walked back to the hotel. Emma didn't know who that lady was, Mrs. Levinson, but she somehow understood how upsetting the encounter had been for Anthony. Consequently she remained quietly by his side, brushing against his coattail as they walked.

That night, as Anthony was saying good night to her, Emma asked a question that had bothered her since the encounter in the park. "Why that lady call you Anotee Sir?

Anthony chuckled at the child's mangling of his name. "Sir Anthony. She called me that because in England, that is what I am called. We were introduced at a dinner party hosted by her daughter and her husband, Lord and Lady Grantham. Of course, they introduced me as Sir Anthony."

"Like Sir Lancelot?" she asked her eyes huge with excitement.

"Not exactly," Anthony said wryly. "Sir Lancelot was knighted by King Arthur for his bravery. My title was inherited from my father, who did so from his, and so on… The title goes back several hundred years to Henry Strallan, who gave a great deal of money to the king and consequently was granted a baronetcy. I've done nothing to earn the title beyond simply being the only son of a baronet."

"But Lords and Sirs…they…they are brave men," she insisted. "They fight for what's right."

"We try,' he agreed, more to get her to settle down than because he felt there was any merit to her statement. Besides, she was only four; there was no reason to spoil her innocence with tales of the evils committed by aristocracy over the centuries. "Now really, my little one, it is time for you to sleep."

"But…" She started.

Anthony's expression of amused caution stopped her, but only momentarily. "But does that make me a Lady…if you're a Sir?"

Chuckling at her eagerness, Anthony smiled. "No little one, as you are not my child by blood, you cannot benefit from my title." Seeing her crestfallen face, he hurried to amend himself. "Besides, you are a Lady in your own stead."

That seemed to make her content and she curled under her covers, snuggling with her bear that had been purchased at FAO Swartz the day before. Anthony turned out the light, pulled her door closed, and moved into the sitting area of their suite. All the talk of Lords and Ladies had made him think of Downton, which of course led him to Edith. Sitting in a comfortable chair with a lamp next to it, he attempted to pick up a book he had been reading but his eyes wouldn't focus. All he could see was her and his mind seemed determined to linger over those enchanted evenings in her company. He drifted to sleep there, in the chair with the book open in his lap, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and a wistful smile on his lips.


	10. Invitations

Martha's appearance seemed to be well received. She's not quite done with Anthony yet. While it is a somewhat heartbreaking journey our Anthony is on, I do hope you are able to find a little humor in this chapter. Let me know what you think. As always, your comments are like chocolate.

* * *

Two days later there was a note in his box at the front desk. As he opened it, he sighed. Martha Levinson had invited him to dinner. All he could think was why? She'd had her say that day in the park and as far as he was concerned there was nothing more to said between them. Mrs. Williams, the woman who had travelled to New York caring for Emma, was still in his employ for another week so he couldn't use the child as an excuse to decline. It became a question in his mind of whether he could find a way to decline gracefully or if he should just buck up and simply go to her dinner. As he thought more he decided he might go. After all, she might have more news of Edith. No sooner than the thought stumbled through his mind, Anthony closed his eyes and chastised himself. He shouldn't be thinking of her; he hadn't the right. But surely a little news wouldn't hurt? He carefully worded his response and had the concierge send the reply to Mrs. Levinson.

Upon arriving that evening at the Levinson home, more of a mansion really, Anthony was chagrinned to discover there were other guests. Mr. and Mrs. Elmer Chittum and Mr. and Mrs. Floyd Mason were apparently long time friends with the Levinson family. As Martha Levinson made the introductions he had the feeling the others knew of his story with Edith. Mrs. Chittum in particular gave him a peculiar look as if she recognized him, even though Anthony was quite certain they had never met.

So, Mr. Strallan…oh, I'm sorry it is Lord Anthony, isn't it?" Mrs. Mason said.

"Um…Sir Anthony actually," he replied, wishing once again he'd forgone the title. Americans just didn't seem to grasp the nuances of English aristocracy and privately he'd always thought the titles a bit pompous anyway. "But please, since I am invading your territory and titles aren't used here, let's just ignore mine," he said smoothly, plastering his customary polite smile on his response.

Mrs. Mason smiled warmly and Mrs. Chittum actually giggled. The men seemed impressed with his manner as well. Mrs. Levinson watched him with cat like eyes, he noticed. It was if she were studying him as prey.

The before dinner drinks were relaxed enough that Anthony let down his guard. The men asked him about his journey and were quite eager to hear about his adventures at the aero hangers in Kansas. Dinner was very pleasant he thought. He'd been placed between Mrs. Levinson and Mrs. Chittum, which made for some lively and awkwardly interesting conversation. It seemed Mrs. Chittum was fascinated with all things English. Finally things were winding down when Mrs. Levinson turned to him. "So Sir Anthony, when exactly do you plan to do right by my granddaughter?"

Anthony sputtered the wine he had just drunk. "Excuse me?"

"Edith? When do you plan to marry her?"

"I…you know what happened. Surely you don't think…why, even if I were to return for her, you can't possibly believe she would…Besides, I'm far too old for her." He felt five sets of eyes on him, all with predatory intentions. "Besides, this is hardly a conversation for this setting…" he muttered nervously.

Ignoring his discomfort, Martha Levinson plowed on. "I do believe she would…and beyond that, Edith might be younger in age but she has always been an old soul. The two of you were a good match, I thought. And now I believe both of you are miserable. There is only one solution as I see it."

"Now Martha, don't upset the man," Mrs. Chittum exclaimed. "If he doesn't want your Edith, he doesn't want her." Then turning to him the older woman smiled. "But I'm sure you'd love my Betsy."

Feeling more heated by the second, Anthony stared at the woman in shock. "I…it isn't….No, thank you but I'm quite sure your Betsy would not be happy with me. And now if you'll excuse me," he said as he pushed back from the table. Turning to Mrs. Levinson he bowed politely. "Mrs. Levinson, I thank you for inviting me this evening but I believe it is time for me to retreat…um retire. Thank you again." He turned and calmly walked out of the room. Once the door was closed behind him, he hurried to find his coat, slipped it on and tried to disappear through the front door.

As Martha Levinson watched him leave, she was already in motion. She simply couldn't let him get away without having another word. "Sir Anthony," she called out just as he was about to step out of the front door. He paused and looked back surprising her with the tears sliding out of his eyes. "I am sorry for upsetting you like that. It's just that Edith fought with her father in support of you when I was there. I saw how much she cares for you. When he asked you to stay away, it left her heartbroken. She confided in me how much she cherished time spent with you." Martha paused and looked at him pointedly. "She deserves happiness and so do you. Now if you walked away because you truly don't care for her, well…alright then. But if you feel as strongly for her as I believe you do then don't waste anymore time. Being noble and honorable is a fine thing, but it can also be very lonely. And it will all be for naught, because our Edith will still be quite unhappy." Unable to speak, he nodded and walked out of the door.

Anthony didn't let himself think until he was safely in his hotel room. Why did she do that to me, he wondered as he loosened his tie. Surely she knew it would be embarrassing….and that other woman, Mrs. Chittum….why would I want her Betsy? Why did she think that? Once he had divested himself of his tie and jacket, Anthony sat in a comfortable chair by the window and sighed. Looking out into the darkness he finally let his mind wander to the woman who so many miles across the ocean was still in possession of his heart.

Mrs. William ambled out of Emma's room and saw him in the chair. "Oh Mr. Strallan, I didn't realize you were back. Emma's asleep so everything should be quiet until morning."

"Thank you, Mrs. Williams. I do appreciate you watching her tonight."

"If it is alright with you, I thought I might go downstairs and see what sort of snack the restaurant might still be serving, perhaps some of their cheesecake.."

"Yes, of course. Since Emma's all settled in, I think that's all that's required tonight. I'll be here should she need anything."

Mrs. Williams smiled at him. "I gotta say, Mr. Strallan, you're about the nicest man I ever met in my life."

Anthony's smile was wane. "Thank you," he said quietly, Edith's face at the church flashing into his mind. He certainly hadn't been very nice that day.

That night Anthony woke, screaming, his terrors back in full force. He was frantic as he threw the covers off and searched for a light switch. The door flew open and Emma scurried in, "Anotee?"

He turned on the lamp and blinked as he looked across at Emma. The child's frightened countenance pierced him much like a bayonet, startling him out of his nightmare. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he looked back at her. "I'm….I'm alright," he said, trying to sound as normal as he could.

"You had a bad dream?" she asked fearfully.

"Yes, my darling little one…just a bad dream," he breathed out softly. "I'm alright now."

She studied him intently, her small face scrunched in thought. "I'm staying with you… I'll chase away the bad dreams," she declared.

Surprised by the ferocity of her declaration, Anthony gaped at the child for a moment before responding. "I really am alright now, little one. But if it will make you more comfortable, then by all means, climb up."

Emma climbed into the bed and sat watching him. "You go to sleep and I'll watch for if the bad dreams come back," she said solemnly.

Anthony smiled at her, wondering when she had become the parent and he the child. "I think it will be enough that you are here," he said earnestly. "Climb under the covers and go back to sleep. And if I dream again, you'll be here to calm me."

That seemed to satisfy Emma. No sooner than Anthony had turned out the light, then she was asleep. Anthony lay there listening to her breathe amused and also somewhat embarrassed by her protectiveness. Once he was certain she was deep asleep, he climbed out of the bed and put on his dressing gown. He meandered into the sitting room that separated their rooms and was drawn to the windows. Looking out over the bright lights of the city, he found himself wondering where Edith was and what she was doing. If he hadn't bolted from the church that day that seemed so long ago now, she could be here with him….or he could be with her wherever she was. And it could be their child asleep in his bed, along side its mother. And instead of this great emptiness that was his constant companion, despite the pleasure Emma brought him, his life and his soul would be full.

Other voices were speaking inside of him as well; ones reminding him of how young and vivacious Edith was and how she would soon tire of him; ones that doubted his ability to keep her happy. The lights of the city began to blur as he let those voices whisper to him and with a sigh he sat in a nearby chair, letting the despair wash over him. "Oh my darling Edith," he sighed as he wiped away a tear that had escaped. "Please be happy, my darling one." It was in the chair that Mrs. Williams found him the next morning when she came to check on Emma.


	11. Almost Home

The premiere of series 4 in the UK is quickly approaching and as we get more teasers of the Edith/Gregson story my teeth are grinding down to nubs. It is wrong...just wrong, wrong, wrong! Aurgh!

JF, don't make me fly over there and knock some sense into your head! I WANT MY ANTHONY BACK! I think we all do.

Okay, rant over. I do hope you all like this chapter. I sure had fun writing it; well, except for the sad parts...which I guess was most of the chapter...hmmmm...really must give him some happy soon;-)

* * *

The day had finally arrived for Anthony and Emma to board their ship to England. Anthony was glad to be returning; he missed his country and his estate. Locksley wasn't as large or grand as some of his friends' estates but he'd grown up in that house and it was home. As he contemplated his childhood there he glanced at Emma, hoping she would find it as comfortable as he did in spite of his misunderstandings with his family. He was rooted to the place, he knew; the last year…over a year really, had proven that to him. It meant he might encounter a certain family and that unsettled him somewhat, especially one particular member of that family; he hoped he would be up to the meetings when they came.

Emma was enthralled by all the noise and celebration as they left the dock. Anthony wished he felt the same excitement. But he supposed that kind of exhilaration was for the young. With a wry smile, he considered how very old the little girl sometimes made him feel. People commented to him about how sweet his daughter was. At first he tried to explain but finally just accepted their compliments without comment. Two or three asked after his granddaughter, which elicited giggles from Emma. Anthony was not quite so amused.

The passing went smoothly although Anthony did wonder why anyone would go into service as a nanny or nursemaid. Keeping up with Emma wore him out and consequently every evening was an early one for him. He regretted not finding a suitable governess to make the crossing with them but time had been short in New York and the few who applied weren't to his or Emma's liking. So he looked after her as best he could and was grateful that the child was self sufficient in many ways. Finally they docked at South Hampton and spent the night at an inn there. The next morning, they caught a train to London, where Anthony planned to spend a few days with his sister. He hoped she might help him with finding a suitable woman to look after Emma.

Agatha Chetwood was a tall woman with eyes every bit as blue as Anthony's. A few years older than him, her hair was more gray than blonde and age was beginning to show in her features. Her husband, Miles, was only a fraction taller than she and had hair as white as snow. His light eyes were never distinctly blue or green but always some shade in between and almost always twinkled. Both the Chetwoods were enchanted by Emma.

Agatha agreed to help Anthony find a governess. She had not been blessed with children but had many friends who had and surely one of them would know of someone looking for a position, she assured her younger brother. "In the meantime," she told him over dinner, "the two of you can stay here and one of my maids can look after Emma."

"Thank you" Anthony replied with a smile. "I do appreciate your help. I'm quite lost with all of this."

Miles looked at his brother-in-law kindly. "Actually Anthony, I think you've been quite lost for some time…since the war perhaps…or longer. I thought you'd found yourself with that young lady…Edith…but then you bolted. Honestly Anthony, why did you ask her to marry you if you didn't intend to go through with it?"

"Miles!" Agatha hissed. "Leave him alone. I'm sure he had his reasons. And I'm equally sure he did not intend for things to play out as they did."

Anthony sighed and looked from one to the other. "No, I did not. And yes, I was lost…quite lost… you saw how hard it was for me when they let me out of the hospital… with my arm and all. When I first saw Edith again, I had no intention of…of…." His heart hammering in his chest, momentarily Anthony closed his eyes to gather his emotions. "She kept coming around you see… and…" he couldn't finish.

Angry with her husband for upsetting her brother, Agatha glared at Miles. "See what you've done?"

"Look here dear fellow," Miles said soothingly, "I didn't mean to dredge up old wounds. It's just; well…you seemed happier before that day; nervous but happy."

"I was…both," Anthony confessed. "I … I just couldn't get past the fact of our ages. I'm just too old and even if I thought that didn't matter, combined with my arm and ….everything else; well, it was just too much. The closer we got to the day, the more I felt it. I care for her too much to do that to her."

Miles frowned. "You're still bothered by the dreams then?"

Looking down, not wanting to meet their eyes, Anthony nodded. "Yes, I am. Not as frequently but…just as bad."

Agatha reached across and patted her brother's arm. "Oh Anthony, I thought the doctors said they would go away."

"Yes, well…they really don't know much about these things…how to treat them. For many, the dreams do go away. But after seeing some of the things I saw and then the bullet that destroyed my arm and … "

"And the way the Germans treated you?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Anthony nodded again. "It's better; it really is but …well, you can see why I couldn't expect Edith to…to manage all of that. I couldn't do that to her; she's too young and has such a beautiful spirit. I just couldn't…" He blinked, fighting the sudden dampness in his eyes. "Surely you can see…"

Agatha rubbed his forearm and smiled sadly. "I see why you thought it wouldn't be fair to her. But apparently she cared a great deal for you, perhaps loved you even. The Crawley's are a sturdy bunch, Anthony. I'm sure Lady Edith would have managed quite well. And if she has any of her mother in her, she would have done it willingly and with grace."

Finally Anthony looked into his sister's eyes. "I know. She said as much to me. But…."

"Oh damn you, Anthony; damn you and your overly active sense of chivalry and unselfishness. You deserve some happiness in this life too, you know!"

Miles, upon seeing Anthony's shocked expression at Agatha's outburst, cleared his throat. "She's right, old chap. You're too decent for your own good. But what is done, is done. And you have more immediate concerns with that adorable little urchin you've brought back."

Anthony was grateful that the conversation turned back to Emma and the help he would need with her. Still, his mind wouldn't let go of the dinner conversation and that night, he awoke again in terror. Once he'd calmed down, he shook his head. "Good thing no one was here to see me like that," he mumbled, the sound of his own voice steadying him further. He'd spoken in a general sense but his mind was picturing Edith and the horror he was certain would be on her face if she saw him like this.


	12. Letting Go - Perhaps

It took only two weeks to find a suitable governess. Ellen Paxton had been widowed at the very end of the war and was in need of a job. Her husband had left her with an infant and little else. Of course, her widow's stipend wasn't nearly enough so she had trained as a governess and this was to be her first job as the sole tutor. Her son was only a year or so older than Emma and Anthony agreed that he would be taught along with her. It would also give Emma someone her own age to mix with. Anthony feared that she would be lonely with only adults around all the time. And he didn't know of any children near Locksley that would make suitable playmates. So he saw Mrs. Paxton's son as a bonus.

Emma was shy with Edward when Anthony introduced mother and son to her. At first it confused Anthony but Mrs. Paxton didn't seem surprised. "How many children has she actually been around?" the woman asked him.

Anthony looked at the woman and smiled at his obvious folly. "None that I am aware."

She smiled up at him. "Given time, I'm sure they will get along well."

The afternoon before Anthony and Emma were to leave for Locksley, he was having tea with Agatha and Miles.

"So little brother, what are your plans once you return to Locksley?" She asked.

Sighing, Anthony put his teacup on the table next to him. "I'm sure there will be plenty of issues with the estate that will need my attention. I was gone far too long but I couldn't take Emma away before her grandmother passed, so I waited. But some repairs are needed and Wooly died while I was away. We'll need to find someone to take up his tenancy."

Agatha and Miles exchanged worried looks that did not escape Anthony. "Why do you ask, Agatha?" he queried suspiciously.

She glanced away and then taking a deep breath, she looked back at him sadly. "Locksley isn't the only estate that has suffered losses this past year."

Anthony studied her expression feeling that she was about to deliver bad news. Tilting his head slightly, preparing himself for what was to come, he asked her. "What has happened to Edith?"

"Oh not Lady Edith," Miles exclaimed. "But…" He swallowed to prepare his voice to deliver the news of Downton but Agatha interceded. "Her sister, Lady Sybil… she died in childbirth."

Anthony's chest clinched. "Yes, I'd heard," he replied meekly.

"Yes. Seems she delivered the baby, a little girl, and seemed alright. But a few hours later, she was dead. It shook the entire house. It was quite sometime before Lady Grantham was herself, I'm told. "

"When? It had to be…she didn't have long to wait when…when I left," Anthony said.

"You are correct. It wasn't long after you sailed. The family had only just begun to recover when…not long ago, Mr. Crawley was killed in a motor accident."

Anthony sat mutely, "M….Matthew Crawley...yes, I knew that as well." His reply was little more than a whisper.

"Lady Mary had just delivered their child, a son, and he was returning to Downton from the hospital. They are very much a house in mourning."

"Yes, of course. Robert…Lord Grantham was quite fond of him. And now he has lost his heir."

"Yes. But of course, the baby will inherit when the time comes. Still, it was a terrible blow. Seems we never can be sure of what life has planned for us..."

Anthony nodded sadly. "And Edith? She is…"

"Writing for The Sketch now. She has a column that appears regularly. Her commentaries have caused quite a stir, I might add."

"Yes, quite so," Miles chimed in. "Your young lady certainly knows how to make her point."

"She isn't my young lady," Anthony snapped.

"Yes, quite right. Sorry." Miles looked chagrinned as he cut his eyes at his wife.

"Anthony," Agatha said hesitantly, "there are rumors… her editor, a Mr. Gregson apparently …well, it seems they are …"

"I freed her in hopes that she might find someone more suitable. I assume he is closer to her age."

"He is but…"

Looking warily at his sister, Anthony felt queasy. "What?"

"Well, apparently he is far too attentive. There is even talk that he followed the family to Scotland when they were there. He isn't of our class Anthony but even more…well, he has a reputation."

Anthony blanched at this revelation. Trying to recover, he glanced at Miles. "Miles isn't of our class but you've been quite happy. I don't think that is a reason she should dismiss this…this Mr. Gregson."

"But this man's reputation…?" she prodded.

Suddenly anger washed through him, anger and despair. "Why are you asking me this?" he exclaimed. "I have no right… she is free to …she…" He collapsed back into his chair. "Oh my god…" he sighed.

Agatha and Miles watched as her brother seemed to come undone. He shrank into the chair, his expression bearing witness to his grief. Covering his face with his hand, he sat unmoving for long moments.

"Anthony, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…I just thought…You'll hear this eventually and I thought it would be easier if you were prepared," Agatha said contritely. Miles sat beside her, patting her hand as he watched his brother-in-law stand and walk quietly out of the room.

Finally in the safe confines of his room, Anthony let his grief come to the surface. So she had found someone. That was what he had intended, wasn't it? This man, this… Gregson…he was younger, full bodied; well, as far as Anthony knew anyway. Agatha hadn't mentioned any infirmities. And they obviously had shared interests. He must support her in her writing, Anthony reasoned. That was good; she'd had so little support as far as he could tell….little support in anything from her family. It was what he had wished for her, wasn't it? His chest felt crushed as tears finally made their way down his face. He had walked away, given her freedom, and now he must let go of her, he knew. He knew it as well as he knew his heart was truly broken and would never mend. But he could manage; as long as his dearest darling was happy, he could survive.

The next day Anthony and Emma along with Mrs. Paxton and Edward left for Yorkshire and Locksley. Anthony felt some stirrings of excitement as they boarded the train, excitement and dread. Emma was very excited. Mrs. Paxton had her hands full as the girl talked and babbled, bouncing from one bench to the other, her exhilaration wearing them all down. Anthony watched as the countryside rolled by, wondering what the reception would be upon their arrival. Thankfully Carl would be there to meet them. He'd wired ahead to let the driver know when to expect them.

Once the train pulled into the station, they disembarked and Anthony looked around for Carl. He asked Mrs. Paxton to stand at the corner of the station while he found Carl and the driver collected their bags. Assured they would remain in place, Anthony strode off to find his man.

Emma watched him walk away and suddenly was gripped by fear. She looked up at Mrs. Paxton and then at Edward, who were looking all around, fascinated by what they saw. Without thought, the girl suddenly bolted from Mrs. Paxton's grasp and ran in the direction she'd seen Anthony go.

"Anotee! Anotee!" the girl cried as she tried to find him in the sea of legs that she was encountering. Then suddenly she ran right into one pair and looked up, frightened. The lady looked surprised but not angry, which seemed to calm the child.

Lady Edith Crawley looked down into the face of the obviously upset child wondering where her parents might be. "Are you alright?" she asked the child.

The little girl nodded solemnly, her wide brown eyes looking at her worriedly. Edith smiled to try and reassure her but was surprised when the child's eyes widen as if she recognized her. "You're the fairy," the child whispered in awe.

"What? No matter. Where are your parents?" Edith asked.

"Oh, they dead," Emma answered sadly. "But now my daddy is Anotee."

"Anotee?" Edith couldn't understand what the child was saying.

"Anotee Sir…he went that way," Emma said as she pointed toward the road.

"Perhaps he went to get a motor," Edith suggested.

Emma nodded and then looked at her feet. "I thought…I was afraid he might…Grammy said don't nobody want me and I thought…"

Edith frowned, trying to understand the little girl when she heard an achingly familiar voice. "Emma? What are you doing?"

Edith turned to look into the clear blue yet somewhat worried eyes of Anthony Strallan. As he looked from the child to her his eyes narrowed and she heard a small gasp from him. "Lady Edith," he whispered painfully.

"Sir Anthony." It was then that everything clicked in her mind. So he was this Anotee that the child talked about. Somehow he was…what had the child called him? Her daddy? "Apparently this child was looking for you," she said with some amount of amusement. It was ridiculous really, she mused; them meeting like this…"

"Yes, although I'm not certain why. I asked her to stay with…"

"Oh there you are, Emma," Mrs. Paxton exclaimed as she approached them. "I looked away for only one minute and you disappeared. Don't frighten me like that again," she scolded. Quickly she took the child by the hand and pulled her away before Anthony had any chance of acknowledging her. He watched them walk away in consternation.

"So, you've acquired a family?" Edith asked, sadness trickling out of her.

"What? No, I …well Emma was orphaned and…"

"It's alright Anthony; you needn't explain. You made your feelings quite clear to me that day at the church. Now, if you'll excuse me…" she started to walk away.

"Edith…wait. I… please…" Anthony was desperate that she would understand.

"I'm sorry, my train is about to leave," she said over her shoulder as she walked away. He stood watching her board and as it pulled away he felt like his heart had been torn from his chest once again.

* * *

SO Anthony is finally back in Yorkshire, Now what? You'll just have to keep reading which means I need to keep writing, lol.


	13. Locksley At Last

I hope I am forgiven for the end of the last chapter. I hurried to move things along a little since everyone was mad at me. After all, he has Emma to take care of now. Still, as I've said before, Edith is never very far away... at least inhis thoughts. Happy reading.

* * *

Anthony was quiet as they rode to Locksley. Even the sight of the house and Emma's enthusiasm could not pull him from the quagmire of despair and guilt he had fallen into as he watched Edith leave. Not only that, seeing her had uncorked other emotions, ones that he thought he'd managed to gain control over while he was in America. His body ached from heartbreak. She had looked so lovely to him and so hurt... hurt he knew he had caused. Anthony knew his sleepless nights would return.

The staff had been warned that things were changing. A room had been prepared for Emma just down the hall from Anthony's. Mrs. Paxton and Edward were settled on the hall opposite, where she could easily make the transition from Emma's room to her own. Edward's room had once been a small sitting room just off the room Mrs. Paxton would occupy. Anthony was pleased with the arrangements.

Once she had her things put away, Mrs. Paxton tended to Emma, exploring her new room with her and then settling her down for a nap. Anthony used the time to check his mail and begin to grasp what needed his immediate attention. Several hours later he heard Emma's small voice from the library door. "Anotee?"

Turning from his desk, he smiled at the little one and motioned her to come in. "Yes, what is it Emma?"

"Did I….did I make the fairy go away?"

Anthony looked into her contrite little face and was caught between heartache and amusement. The child needed reassurance however so he tried to think of a way to respond. Glancing away for a moment he sighed. Then looking back at her, he smiled although he didn't feel it. "No my little one, you did not. She was there to catch a train and had to hurry or she would miss it." He had told the truth of the situation, at least as far as he thought the child would understand. How could he expect her to understand anything more when he didn't? It had seemed such simple logic when he'd left Edith at the altar all those months ago. He was too old, too infirm to ever make her happy. And yet, seeing her that afternoon, he understood her unhappiness; he knew her well enough to perceive it. And the depth of his own unhappiness was too painful to contemplate.

Emma studied his face intently. If he fairy was just in a hurry why was he so sad, she wanted to know. But some little inner voice told her not to ask. Instead, she turned her attention to his desk. "You got lots of papers," she observed.

A genuine smile crept across Anthony's features at her remark. "Yes, I do. I was away for a long time and there are many things that need my attention." Emma opened her mouth to respond but Mrs. Paxton's voice rang out instead. "Emma, I told you to come to me when you woke from your nap.

Emma turned to the governess and took a deep, frustrated breath. "But I had to see my Anotee," she declared.

"Sir Anthony is busy and we mustn't disturb him now. Perhaps we'll see him at dinner," she suggested.

Emma turned and looked at Anthony who gave her a weary smile in return. "I really do have work to do, sweet little one. Go with Mrs. Paxton and I will see you later." He watched as she sighed and then trudged to her caregiver. Perhaps things were changing too quickly for her, he considered. He would need to think of a way to make things easier for the little girl.

Dinner was a disaster by the usual standards. Emma was totally unprepared for the dining room, Anthony saw. They had eaten in the cabin as they made their crossing and in hotel rooms on the rest of the journey, so he hadn't noticed how atrocious her table manners were. She was trying but she simply had not been trained. After dinner, he spoke with Mrs. Paxton about her lessons in comportment. She agreed that the child needed much work in that regard.

Once the house was settled for the night and Anthony had retired, his mind drifted to the meeting with Edith at the train station. He had known they were likely to meet sometime; the village was small. He simply hadn't been prepared for it so soon. She looked beautiful, of course. There was no surprise there… none at all, he mused. But the way she had looked at him, the hurt and anger in her voice and…was it sadness he heard as well? He wondered how many times one's heart could break. Surely his had reached the limit. With a deep sigh and a heavy heart, he climbed into bed and tried to sleep.

It was just before dawn when his dream woke him. Edith was at the center of it, of course. It had felt so real, as if she were there in his bed, touching him, kissing and caressing, her hands everywhere, and him buried deep within her. His breathing signaled just how very real it had been. Shaking his head in disbelief, he realized what had awakened him. It had been so real, so intense that his mind and body were convinced that he was indeed with her. The consequence was that he needed a change of pajama pants. "My god…" he muttered to himself as he climbed from his bed. "This is…my god, Anthony Strallan, stop behaving like a schoolboy. At best you are a foolish old man." His admonishments continued as he struggled with his clothes in the dark. Once he was back in his bed, melancholy overtook him. Resigned to the knowledge that he would never be over Edith, he tried to go back to sleep.

The next morning Anthony shared with Mrs. Paxton his thoughts of ways to help Emma through her adjustment. Instead of breakfast in the dinning room which would have been customary, he started going to the nursery that really resembled a schoolroom. There he and Emma would share the meal, often with Edward joining in. Mrs. Paxton, standing on propriety refused to join them and ate with the other servants. Then Emma went to her lessons and Anthony went out on the estate.

Mrs. Paxton chose to use lunch as a teaching tool. Emma needed a great deal of instruction, she explained to Anthony, if she was ever to be really ready for the dining room. So Anthony's lunch usually was eaten at his desk while he looked over paperwork or caught up on correspondence. He would take a break in the afternoon to read to Emma. Usually she curled into his lap and sat contentedly while he read, offering questions and comments upon occasion but generally simply content to be with him. Then it was time for her nap and he was able to finish whatever needed finishing. They weren't doing things in the usual way but Anthony realized they were far from usual. Emma needed to see him more than most children of his class saw their parents; she needed the reassurance that he was there.

Anthony usually ate a light dinner in his library so that the staff didn't have much bother over one person's meal in the dining room. Besides, eating in the dining room often left him lonely. He would spend an hour or two with Emma in the evenings before Mrs. Paxton hustled her off to bed. That time between Emma's bedtime and his own was usually the most dangerous for Anthony. Without the business of the estate to occupy his mind thoughts of Edith would worm their way to the forefront. Sometimes they caused intense longing and other times it might be despair. Occasionally he was able to sift through his memories of her and feel something akin to happiness. She had made him happy in his own quiet, muddling way of being happy. Reflecting on all of it one night about three weeks after his return, he realized he'd never really experienced the intense happiness he saw in others at times, certainly not the excitement Emma often displayed or even the reserved but still evocative happiness he'd seen in Edith's face. But she had made him happy all the same, more so than he'd ever experienced. Emma brought him some amount of happiness too, giving him a new purpose in life. But it wasn't the same.

Among the things he'd brought from London were the articles that Agatha had saved, Edith's articles. He'd also saved copies of The Sketch that contained her articles since he had returned. On that night Anthony decided that perhaps he could finally manage reading them. Pulling the folder from his desk drawer, he opened it to the first one and began to read.

It was a letter to the Times and Anthony was quite impressed. He smiled as he imagined Robert's reaction and even more the Dowager's. Surely Edith had faced much disdain over it. There was a gap between the letter and her first column for The Sketch. Lady Sybil's obituary had been carefully clipped and saved by Agatha and it explained the gap.

One of her commentaries caught his attention in particular. She wrote about the plight of the men who had returned from war and how they were or weren't adjusting to life again. She made some very good points, he thought, although she was a bit naive in some of her views. Still, it was well thought through and he hoped it had the impact she had intended. He suspected however, that it hadn't really been intended for a broad audience; no, it had been intended for a much smaller one, him. Was it her way of saying she had forgiven him? He wondered.

There were other commentaries covering a wide range of topics, politics, the Irish situation, women's rights, temperance…some were written to be humorous and some were quite serious and dark. Every one was written to make one think. As he placed the last one back in the folder, Anthony smiled. His Edith, his dearest darling had found her niche. Painfully he hoped she had found happiness as well.


	14. Lubly

The following week Anthony was in his library, going over some accounts when his door flew open and Emma rushed in, crying. She flung herself into his lap and buried her face in his chest, sobbing. "What is the matter, Emma? Why are you crying so?"

The little girl looked up at him mournfully. "I didn't know it was bad," she wailed. "I just wanted to know why?"

"Why what?" he asked, flabbergasted by her despair.

Mrs. Paxton appeared in the doorway just then. "We went into the village, Sir Anthony." She was flustered as well.

"What in heavens name happened?" He asked quietly as he tried to soothe Emma. "Surely you didn't do anything too terrible," he said to the girl.

Emma looked up at him, her large brown eyes terrified. "I only just wanted to know," she sniffled. Anthony pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and began to wipe away the child's tears. "Know what?"

"Why she wouldn't do magic," the girl wailed. Anthony looked at Mrs. Paxton hopelessly.

"We were just coming out of the shop when we ran into that lady from the train station. She didn't see us at first but Emma ran up to her and asked her to do her magic. Of course, the lady was quite puzzled."

Anthony frowned. "You spoke to Lady Edith?" he asked Emma. The child only nodded that she had and began to cry again.

"Emma tried to explain to the lady … I didn't understand it myself so of course the lady didn't either. But the child kept saying she was a fairy and you, sir, needed her to do her magic."

Anthony groaned in understanding. "Oh," he moaned.

Emma looked up. "I told her you was…were hurting and all she had to do was come do her magic. She said you didn't want her anymore. And then she said fairies aren't real anyway. And then she said I should go to my mama and I tried to tell her that I didn't have no mama; that I only hab you. But she just got angry at me and told me to go back to my mama and pointed at Mrs. Paxton." Tears were still trickling down the child's face as she spoke. "Then she just walked away. I think she was crying."

Mrs. Paxton took a step closer. "Sir Anthony, I believe the lady thought that I am Emma's mother. Edward was with me and …well, it was an easy mistake to make. But I got the impression that she also thinks…that she believes that you and I are… well …that we're married."

Anthony sighed deeply. He nodded to Mrs. Paxton. "Thank you. I'm sure you'd like to see to Edward; I'm sure he was upset by all this as well. I'll tend to Emma." Mrs. Paxton nodded and left the room.

"Emma, my sweet little one, it is alright. Lady Edith just doesn't understand. She doesn't know much about you or what has happened to you. She is just confused by it all. It will be alright, little one. You didn't do anything wrong. But perhaps you shouldn't approach Lady Edith again like that, alright?"

Emma gazed up into his face and saw his unhappiness. "But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why was she mad at me? I didn't mean to make her mad at me."

"It is more likely that she is angry with me, little one. I hurt her, you see, very deeply. And I'm sure she didn't mean for her anger at me to hurt you. She really is very kind. One day perhaps you'll get to know her and see that. But for now, I think it best you not approach her again."

"Why'd you hurt her if she is so nice?"

Another deep breath escaped Anthony. If only he had a good answer for that. Finally he attempted. "Because I am an old fool," he muttered. Seeing that the child still wanted an answer, he continued. "We were to be married but…well, I don't deserve her, you see. She is so lovely and young and…well, I'm not any of that. She deserves someone who is all of those things and can make her happy. It hurt her a great deal, I'm afraid, when I broke it off."

Emma frowned up him and scrunched her mouth. "But you are…"

"What?"

"You are lubly. And you deserve her. And you make me happy so you could make her happy too." She grimaced and looked at him quizzically. "What's lubly?"

Anthony chuckled. "It is…everything that Lady Edith is and what I hope you will be when you are grown. But you'll have to mind your lessons for that to happen," he winked. Seeing that the tears were done, Anthony scooted the child to the floor, "Now I have work to finish. Why don't you go down to the kitchen and ask cook if she would please make your favorite biscuits for tea. Tell her I said it was alright."

Emma's eyes lit. "Really?"

"Really. But remember to say please. She'll be much more willing if you say please."

Smiling now, Emma turned and raced from the room. He heard her stop in the hall and ask Stewart, "What's lubly?"

Stewart, having finally come around to the presence of Emma in the house, replied softly. "The flowers in the garden, the sun rising, and you, Miss Emma."

Emma giggled and took off again. Anthony smiled and tried to return his thoughts to his accounts.

* * *

Yes, I know...way too short. LOL. I'm working through a block here. I'm chapters ahead with a very rough draft but as I go back and "unrough" it, things just aren't feeling quite right and I'm trying to make it all better:-) I tried to make this chapter longer but it wasn't working and I decided it is better to get it right than get it long;-) Hope you liked it. Now, back to the rest of the story...


	15. A Call to London

Everyone was so kind with reviews of the last chapter! You all are so inspiring, especially since most of you are in the midst of Andith stories of your own. I get this giddy gleeful feeling whenever I open the page and see that another Andith story has been posted or updated.

I'm afraid I had a little more fun at Anthony's expense in this one. Poor fellow; but he really does deserve a tough time after walking away like he did. Since JF won't put it back right, I suppose we must but not before we make him pay (she laughs evily). Anyway, some darkness ahead but you know what they say, it is always darkest just before the dawn.

* * *

The following week Anthony received a letter from his sister. Agatha requested that he travel to London at the end of the month. She was planning a dinner party and she hoped he would attend but she also had some business to discuss with him. Intrigued and somewhat perplexed, he wrote back that he would arrive on a Thursday and return to Locksley on Sunday. That would give them time to discuss business and he would be there for her dinner. The news of his trip did not go over well with the smallest member of the household. "But why you leaving me?" Emma pouted.

"I'm not leaving you, not really. I'll just be away fro a few days. And you will remain here with Mrs. Paxton and have your lessons. And perhaps if you are really good for Mrs. Paxton I'll bring back a present." That seemed to mollify the child but she remained unhappy about Anthony's trip.

It became routine for the following two weeks for her to ask him when he was going to London and when he would be back. And then she would look at him fearfully and ask, "Are you going away like Grammy did?" Just as routinely, Anthony would hold the child in his lap and reassure her that unlike her grandmother, he would come back.

Early on Thursday morning, Carl drove Anthony to the village to catch the train to London. Stewart would accompany him and act as his valet since he would need to dress for dinner and whatever society he encountered while there. Emma had been quite morose and quiet the night before and Anthony was worried about how the child might behave in his absence. Still, he wasn't prepared to take an entourage on this trip and it would only be a few days, he reasoned. Climbing into his rail car, his mind was on Emma; consequently, he didn't see Lady Edith Crawley board the train just a few cars away.

Once the train pulled into the London terminal, he climbed out and glanced towards the car he knew Stewart had boarded. Not seeing his man, he turned to move across the platform where he knew he could wait on Stewart to collect their bags. As he turned he heard Stewart call out and looked back toward the sound of his man's voice. Not watching what was in front of him, he collided with another person. Turning to make his apologies, his mouth went dry. "Ed….Lady Edith," he whispered.

She looked up at him, her dark eyes full of anger and fear, as well as irritation. It seemed she was having difficulty speaking as well. "I'm very sorry," Anthony finally blurted out awkwardly. Seeing her so unexpectedly had thrown him and he didn't quite know how to react. But seeing her also roused other feelings and he wanted, wished really, to simply stay rooted in front of her, gazing into her sweet face; except her face wasn't looking so sweet at the moment. He saw the storm clouds gathering in her countenance and knew she was about to find her tongue. Even so, if it meant a few short splendid minutes in her presence, he'd take it.

"You …you nearly knocked me down," she chastised hesitantly.

"Yes, I'm quite sorry. I heard Stewart calling to me and it distracted me. I…" he gazed down at her, drinking in every detail of her face to be treasured later. "How are you?" he asked.

"How am I? You ask me that now? How am I? I suppose I am as one might expect after being jilted at the altar."

She was seething, Anthony realized. "I…yes, quite right. That was…despicable of me. I…well, I know it means little but I am sorry…truly."

"You're sorry?" She looked up at him disbelief. "Is that 'you're sorry you jilted me' or is that 'you're sorry you waited until we were standing at the altar to do it'? Her expectant expression nearly unnerved him.

"I…both," he answered meekly with an awkward smile. "I hoped you might find happiness with someone who deserves you more than I."

She frowned and glanced away. Then sighing deeply, she lifted her head and glared at him. "And I suppose you think your new wife deserves you more than I?"

"My…what? New wife? I …."

Just then a man called out to her. They both looked in the direction of the interloper, startled by his sudden appearance. "Edith, I hoped I might be here in time," he said as he stopped next to her. "I meant to be here earlier but I was held up…at work," he told her as he glanced curiously at Anthony.

"Sir Anthony Strallan, this is my editor at The Sketch, Michael Gregson," she said quickly.

The men nodded acknowledgements neither wanting to shake the hand of the other, recognizing competition. Edith glimpsed the expressions between the two and was not amused. "Michael, Sir Anthony owns the estate next to Downton and has been a family friend ever since I can remember," she tacked on to try and calm the tension.

"Yes, quite right," Anthony agreed in support. "I just literally ran into Lady Edith and was catching up. I've been away for some time you see and I haven't heard all the news. Although," he turned his attention back to Edith, "I recently heard about Lady Sybil and Mr. Crawley. I am very sorry…for all of you. Two terrible blows in such a short time…" he finished sympathetically.

"Yes, it was, thank you" she replied finally having regained her composure. "Well, it was good to see you again, Sir Anthony." She took Gregson's arm and he smiled at her possessively. Anthony felt his spine tighten and the hairs on his neck bristle at the gesture. "Yes, quite a pleasant surprise running into you. Please give my regards to your family," he responded politely although he doubted her family wanted his regards. He watched as she turned and walked away on the other man's arm and felt an unrefined growl boiling within. Anthony knew nothing about the man except that he didn't like Gregson and especially not for his Edith. No, she deserved only the best man and Gregson was most assuredly not it. It wasn't until later when he was settled in his room at Agatha's that his mind wandered back to what Edith had said about his new wife. Having forgotten all about Mrs. Paxton's presence at the train in Downton he wondered aloud. "Where did she get the idea I had married?"

The following day, Anthony and Agatha met with the family solicitor about the Strallan home in London. Agatha never used it and Anthony had not since Maude's death. It had been purchased by their grandfather, inherited by their father, and left to Anthony with the proviso that Agatha could use it is needed. He had kept it in hopes that one day he would have an heir to pass it on to but as they talked, Anthony acknowledged that the dream was dead. "The problem is," his solicitor explained, "the house is falling into disrepair. It needs attention. You can choose to repair it yourself or simply sell it at a lower rate."

Anthony grimaced. He really didn't want to spend time in London overseeing the project. Glancing at Agatha, he saw that she wanted nothing to do with it as well. Finally he looked back at the solicitor. "What about our cousin? My father's older sister had a son. That would keep it in the family; it would be one of Grandfathers descendants who would benefit. I believe Cousin Charles has two daughters and a son."

Agatha's face lit. "Of course! Perhaps you could give Charles the house and a small settlement to help with repairs? He's done well enough but I doubt he has enough for extensive work."

"Yes, that would be acceptable," Anthony agreed. The trio spent another hour working out the details. Finally the meeting was over and Anthony relaxed. He hadn't wanted to sink quite so much into the house but as Agatha had pointed out, Charles really wouldn't be able to manage it alone. His only proviso was that if any of the Strallans should need the use of it in coming years, it would be made available. Anthony doubted it would be necessary. Although Miles was not titled, he did come from aristocracy and had made a small fortune on his own to boot. And Anthony was very comfortably situated, as well.

Dinner that night was simple with just Agatha, Miles, and Anthony. Afterwards they gathered in her drawing room for idle chatter. It was then that Agatha looked at her brother rather pointedly. "And have you read Lady Edith's commentaries?"

Anthony was caught completely off guard. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he finally responded with a smile. "Yes, I have. She writes rather well, I think. Some of her opinions are…unsettling, but I think she defends her positions reasonably. I should think they are well received with the Suffragettes certainly."

"They are," Agatha grinned mischievously. "In fact, there is a rumor around London that she might be approached about political office."

"What?" Anthony was flabbergasted. "You mean she might actually be asked to stand for election?"

"Yes. Her father is a member of the Upper Chamber, although I doubt he exercises his seat often. Politics never seemed to be Robert's forte. Still, she must have some knowledge."

Anthony chuckled. "Robert Crawley has probably never discussed politics with his daughters or even his wife. His sensibilities are far too fragile for such a thing. Although, much to Robert's distaste the youngest was quite interested in politics. Must have been the influence of her Irish husband. Edith was able to discuss the subject quite intelligently although somewhat naively at times."

"Apparently her interest has grown," Miles suggested.

Conceding the obvious, Anthony scowl. "Yes, apparently." He fell silent and was only moderately aware of the conversation continuing between Agatha and Miles. He felt immense pride for Edith's new found career but he also worried. Mixing in politics could be an ugly matter and he worried that Edith might be hurt by it. He also wondered about the pride he was feeling. He didn't have the right to such feelings, he mused. She wasn't his to take pride in. No, he'd given up that right when he'd walked away. Still, those feelings were there.

That night he dreamed of Edith again. It was an unsettling dream unlike any others he'd had. He dreamed she was in danger. He awoke the next morning with an uneasy feeling in his stomach and a nagging headache.


	16. The Dinner Party

The following evening was Agatha's dinner party. Anthony spent his afternoon poking about in some bookseller stalls and then meandered his way back to Agatha's, relieved to be out from her inquisitive eye. She was well meaning but her questions and constant conversation about Edith was wearing on him.

He arrived back at her home in time to freshen up and get ready for the dinner. He'd never been especially fond of big dinner parties and since his injury they were even less comfortable. Thankfully, Agatha always took his infirmity into consideration with the menu and he was never required to cut bits of meat. Briefly Anthony's thoughts went to Clarissa Jacobson. She always ensured his meat was bite sized before she served it to him, saving him the embarrassment of needing help at the table. Somewhere in the back of his mind a little voice was telling him Edith would have done the same. But he didn't have time for those thoughts now. The first of the guests were arriving and he hurried downstairs to join them.

There was small talk before dinner and as Anthony looked around the room, he realized what his sister had done…to him. Lord and Lady Atherton were present, along with Lady Atherton's widowed sister. Old Sir Alistair Wolbrooke was there as well, along with both his spinster daughters. Viscount Pelham was in attendance as well. At eighty, he was quite a charmer still and Anthony briefly wondered why he had never remarried. Sir William Ashburn was also attending in the company of his sister and her husband, Lord and Lady Hollinsford. The last to arrive was the Dowager Countess of Sommerby. Anthony groaned when he heard her announced. What was his sister thinking, Anthony wondered. Lydia had persued Anthony with a vengeance before she married Sommerby and Anthony had been disgusted by her manipulations. Agatha knew that. Ever the gentleman, Anthony moved around the room as gracefully as he could manage, speaking with all of Agatha's guests while trying to avoid the available women who his sister had obviously invited for his benefit. By the time dinner was finished, he was seething. Lydia had been placed next to him and chattered incessantly about the most inane topics. "My god," he thought to himself as the men watched the ladies depart, "she's even worse than she was all those years ago.

Taking a sip of his wine, he glanced across the table at Miles who was looking at him impishly. "I told her not to do it, old boy," Miles said laughing. Pelham started chuckling as well. "Seems your sister is attempting to marry you off, Strallan. Don't let her do it. A few nights of being alone won't kill you but that old bat just might." The other men joined in the humor, leaving Anthony feeling even more uncomfortable. Wolbrooke leaned over conspiratorially. "You're still young enough to find a good catch, Anthony. Don't settle for any of the biddies that were here tonight. Plenty of better fish in the ocean…"

Anthony took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to rein in his rampaging emotions. It didn't work and he tossed his napkin on the table, rising from his chair he turned to Miles. "Please make my excuses to the ladies. My headache is back and I think I'll retire early." As he left the room he heard Miles explaining to the others, "he caught the perfect fish and he put her back in the water…" It was all too much for Anthony as he raced up the stairs and as soon as he got to his room, he opened his window and took several deep breaths. Unfortunately, it wasn't his clean country air that came in through the window but the dirty London air and he began coughing. Tired and frustrated, he slammed the window shut and prepared for bed.

Just as his head rested on the pillow there was a knock at his door. Even more irritated and assuming it was Agatha or Miles, he threw the covers off and stormed to the door, flinging it open. Poole, the Chetwood's butler, blinked and stepped back in the face of Anthony's anger leaving Anthony feeling contrite. His situation was not Poole's fault. "Yes Poole," he said, trying to sound less irritated than he felt.

"Someone is on the phone for you, Sir Anthony," the other man said timidly.

"Me? Are you certain?" Anthony couldn't imagine who would be calling…and then he thought of Emma. "Yes, yes….I'll be right down," he said as he left the door open and crossed the room to retrieve his robe and slippers. Frantic with worry, he hurried down the steps into Miles' library, where the phone sat on the desk.

"Yes, this is Anthony Strallan," he said into the mouthpiece.

"Sir Anthony…." An all too familiar voice spoke and then hesitated. Anthony frowned, wondering why the Earl of Grantham would be calling him, especially at his sister's house. "I apologize for interrupting your evening but…" Anthony couldn't ever remember Robert Crawley sounding less sure of himself. "Well, you see….Cora insisted I talk with you….to ask if….well, no one's heard from Edith since she left here Thursday morning and Cora thought…we hoped that perhaps…well, perhaps you've seen her or heard from her?"

"Thursday, you say?" Anthony asked, still somewhat in shock that Robert had called him. "Yes…yes…we bumped into one another at the train depot here…in London. She was headed to a meeting with her editor…"

"Yes…but he says she never arrived," Robert interjected anxiously.

"What? Her editor…his name is Gregson? Brown hair…. Tall but not my height?"

"Yes…yes…you've met him?"

"I have….Thursday when I ran into Ed…Lady Edith. He was there to meet her. They left together."

"But…but….he said he hasn't seen her," Robert's voice was betraying his anger and panic.

"She introduced him," Anthony responded quietly.

"Yes, well…thank you, Anthony. I apologize for disturbing you. We just thought…well, Edith never has quite…she's never quite recovered from your…departure. We thought…hoped that now you are back, she might be with you."

"What? But why?" Anthony was confused. The weeks leading up to the failed wedding, he'd had the impression they hoped he would disappear and now… now they were hoping she was with him.

"Because we knew…know…that with you, she would be safe. You'd never let anything happen to her."

"Thank you for that, Robert. I…I regret hurting her like that…I…"

"Anthony, I think I understand; even more, I believe Edith does even though it still hurts." Robert paused with an audible sigh. "I'll travel to London tomorrow to meet with Gregson and also have my man, Murray, look into it. I do appreciate your information."

Anthony replaced the earpiece in the receiver thoughtfully. What could have happened? She seemed pleased to see Gregson but things were awkward. Anthony had assumed it was because of him. Could there have been more? In a flash of inspiration, Anthony placed a call to a friend of his at the Home Office. Percy Winston would know how to proceed, Anthony thought. Yes, Percy would help him…

* * *

And the intrigue builds...


	17. The Search

The next morning Anthony was up early. He placed a call to Locksley to inform them he would be delayed in London. Then leaving the house before Agatha and Miles had come down, he hurried to meet Percy for breakfast.

"I've done some checking on this chap Gregson," Percy told Anthony. "He's married although in name only. His wife is quite insane, I'm told. He's had a few dalliances but apparently he's been pursuing Lady Edith quite audaciously. He and his paper have flirted on the edge of respectability at times but he usually falls on the right side. But Anthony, I'm afraid …well, there are rumors … about him and your Lady Edith."

"Rumors?" Anthony was aghast. "What sort of rumors?"

"That they are seeing one another…_more_ than seeing one another…" It was obvious Percy was uncomfortable relaying the information to his friend.

"I don't know where to begin to look for her," Anthony sighed, pushing Percy's innuendo from his mind. He couldn't think of that now.

"My guess is that Lord Grantham's man will make discreet inquiries. They'll take a few days. I did manage to find out where she's living in London," Percy added as he pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "You might start there. Ask the other tenants if they've seen her. Poke about the neighborhood. And then start at the hospitals."

"Hospital?" Anthony was afraid to think that she might be there.

"Yes, well…if she's been injured…"

"Right, of course." Anthony took the paper from Percy, thanked him for his help and set out to find Edith…his Lady Edith, as Percy had said.

No one had seen her. He'd knocked on every door in her building and made inquiries in nearby shops that he thought she might visit. Finally, with a heavy heart that was filled with fear, he began inquiring at the hospitals. He hadn't known where to begin so had simply started with the ones nearest Edith's flat. By mid afternoon he was standing in St. Barts, feeling overwhelmed by his chosen assignment of finding Edith. A nurse passed by him and then turned back to speak to him. "Are you alright? Do you need help?" She eyed his sling as she spoke.

Anthony saw his opening and pulled the picture of Edith he'd been carrying. "Yes, I'm looking for this woman. She's disappeared you see and we thought perhaps…"

The nurse glanced at the picture and then at his face. "Oh I'm not certain. If you could give me her name?"

"Edith…Edith Crawley."

"Come with me. We'll make some inquiries." She led him through the halls to an office. "Mrs. Cobb, this gentleman is looking for someone named Edith Crawley. Do we have a patient by that name?"

Mrs. Cobb looked up at the nurse and then at Anthony. Something in his visage must have alarmed her because she pulled a file and quickly thumbed through it. "No…Not an Edith Crawley. We have an Edith Canfield, an Edith Strallan, and an Edith…" Her list was cut short by Anthony. "Edith Strallan…yes, that's her. I'm sure of it."

Mrs. Cobb studied the paper and looked back at the nurse. She's on the second floor… in Dr. Hemphill's care."

Anthony saw the look the two women exchanged and began to worry even more. The nurse turned to him. "I'll take you to her. I'm due on the third floor in a few minutes anyway." So Anthony followed the young nurse again to the second floor. Once there, she stopped another nurse and explained why they were there. The other nurse gave Anthony a questioning look and nodded. "I'm Mrs. Johnson. Mrs. Strallan is one of my patients. And you are?"

"Sir Anthony Strallan," he said softly.

Nurse Johnson's eyes widened. "She said her husband was dead."

"No…I'm not certain why she would tell you that but if you wouldn't mind showing me to her room?"

The first nurse smiled at Anthony and walked away leaving him alone with Mrs. Johnson. "First I need to explain her condition…or at least her appearance."

Anthony's blood drained from his face. "Her….appearance?"

"Yes, took quite a beating, your lady. Her face is a bit battered but miraculously, the baby survived." The woman turned to lead Anthony to Edith's room but Anthony was too shocked to follow. Irritated, Mrs. Johnson turned and glared at him. Anthony looked at her feeling desperate. "B…baby?"

"You didn't know? I'm sorry. Yes, but I'll let her give you the details as I'm sure you want to hear the news from her."

"Yes…of course," he replied, finally finding the strength in his legs to move.

Nurse Johnson opened the door to room 209 and called gently. "I have someone here to visit."

Anthony heard Edith's voice from inside. "Visit? Who could… who is it?"

"From his worried expression, I would say he is your husband," Nurse Johnson answered.

"My…husband?"

Anthony pushed past the nurse and stepped into the room. "Edith?" he called to her quietly panicking. His heart tumbled when he saw her face and heard her whimper. "Anthony."

He stepped closer to her and heard the door close behind him. Checking to be sure, he was relieved that the nurse had left. Turning back to Edith, he nearly started to cry himself. Her face was battered; various colors denoted the extent of the bruising and the left side of her face was swollen grotesquely. Anthony saw a chair near the bed and pulled it closer, settling in it where he could see her more closely, perhaps even touch her. "My dearest one, what happened?" he asked gently.

Edith blinked, tears running down her face. "I…I'm ashamed to tell you."

"Who did this to you?" he tried again. "Have you been here since Thursday?"

She looked down at her hands, which were fidgeting and nodded. "Since Thursday evening."

"But why didn't you call someone…your family? Your aunt is in London, isn't she?"

Edith looked up at him desperately. "Please don't tell them I'm here."

Anthony sat back in his chair, completely bewildered. "But what happened?"

"I was attacked," she said under her breath.

Leaning a little to try to see her downcast face, Anthony tried but failed to make eye contact. If only she would look at him, he thought. "By whom?" She continued to stare at her hands and remained mute. Giving up the effort, he straightened up and sighed. "Well, if you won't talk to me then you leave me no choice but to call your father."

Her head flew up, her eyes fixing on his immediately, her panic clearly evident. "Please…don't."

"But my darling, you leave me no choice. Whoever did this must not be allowed to get away with it,"

He watched as she digested what he had said and came to grips with it. "If…if I tell you about it will you not call my father?"

"I can't promise that, but …I will strongly consider your wishes. First I have to know what happened." He was becoming more uncomfortable by the minute. She was so hurt and so anxious and he ached to comfort her. He wasn't at all certain his comfort would be welcome though so he kept his position in the chair.

"Michael did it. He got angry with me and…he's never behaved like that before. I thought...He just kept…hitting me and hitting me. I screamed but no one came to help. Finally I fainted and when I woke up I was outside the hospital…on the street. He must have brought me here."

"But why would he do this to you?" Anthony asked despairingly. "How could he hurt you like this?" He simply couldn't believe what the man had done.

"After you…left, I was very hurt and lonely. I didn't know what to do and he offered me a job writing for his paper. I found out later that he was attracted to me and…well, I let him think there might be ….something more between us," she shrugged.

"Yes, but that doesn't explain why he would hurt you like this."

Edith looked at him angrily. "And I've never understood why _you_ would hurt me like you did."

"Edith, I… I _am _sorry. I couldn't tie you to me like that. There is so much more for you in life; I want so much more for you." The pain in his chest was very real and a familiar sensation. It always came whenever he thought of that day, the day that might have been the happiest day of his life, if he had let it.

"Yes, well… I'm sure you thought you were doing what was right but it really hasn't turned out well for me at all."

He watched as she withdrew again, visibly pulling back from him. It was clear she wouldn't say more. "Yes well…I've never denied that I am an old fool," he said in a self deprecating tone, hoping to lighten the dark mood that had settled over them.

She looked up at him, her lips almost trying to smile. "Yes, but…I wanted you to be _my_ old fool."

Her reply caught him off guard. Was she being serious or was she teasing him? He really couldn't tell what she was feeling. "Edith…" he sighed. "Oh my sweet one, if you only knew how much I wanted that as well. But it simply wouldn't be fair to you. I don't believe I am capable …"

"Not capable?" She interrupted angrily. "Not capable of what? Of not beating me like Michael did? Of not making me feel as if I don't matter or don't exist as my family has always done? I can tell you what you _are_ capable of; you are the kindest, gentlest man I've ever known but yet, you can also be a fierce defender and protector. I saw it that night at dinner when Larry Grey put something in Tom's drink. You weren't afraid to speak up at all and put the deed squarely on him. You are smart and funny and sweet and when you look at me sometimes I feel like jelly inside. You look at _me_, see _me_, and make me feel as if I matter."

"But you do matter," he insisted. "You matter so very much …"

"To you…at least, I thought I did until that day. When you walked away from me it nearly destroyed me. But I remembered that you had believed in me and…I tried to focus on that instead of the feeling that you no longer wanted me, perhaps never wanted me; that I had pushed you into something. So I found a new career; if I wasn't going to be your wife then I could write, I thought. Except as it turns out Michael supported my writing as a way to get to me; he never cared about me, not really. You're the only one who ever really cared for _me._" She paused for a moment and then whispered, "we would have been so happy…I just know it."

"I…I don't know what to say. All I wanted, all I've ever wanted is for you to be happy. When I was in France I thought about you often, wondering where you were and what you were doing…if you were happy. I thought that if I came home alive, I'd find out if you were attached and if not, I'd decided to make a complete fool of myself one more time and see if…well, if I could not be such an old bore. But then I was wounded and …I'm a cripple, Edith. I can't be the man you deserve. I need help doing the simplest things. And it isn't going to get better. In another ten years or so our difference will really begin to show. You deserve a foolish young man who will chase you around and who can …well, give you the …the affection a wife expects."

"Damn you Anthony!" Her curse and her burst of anger shocked him and Anthony flinched, leaving him momentarily mute. But Edith was just getting started. "It is only your arm that is crippled. It isn't a small thing but many others live with so much worse. And as for affection….you can hold my hand, can't you? You can kiss me; kissing doesn't require the use of your arm. Your endearments are like little bubbles of joy for me, even now…even here. Can you cuddle? Your left arm can still hold me, can't it?" She glared at him angrily and Anthony could imagine smoke floating from her ears and nose. "I don't give a…well, I don't care if you need help cutting your meat or buttoning your buttons. If it bothers you that much, we just wouldn't eat meat and we won't worry about buttons. Things like cutting your meat or needing help to dress are nuisances, I know. But they are not who you are and dammit, I'm still in love with the man you are. I was infatuated with you before the war and the seeds of love were planted. But being close to you and knowing you so much better after you came back; I fell in love with you. Why can't you understand…don't you know how good you are for me…to me? You are a smart man, Anthony Strallan, yet you insist on being so dense about this!

Anthony blinked in the face of her ire. "I…I'm good for you? I don't see how…"

Edith let out a frustrated sigh. "Of course you don't." She huffed and then muttered, "Why am I even bothering?" Then she looked at him, her eyes pleading. "I love you Anthony Strallan; I shall always love you. You can run away and hide, I won't chase you. But we'll both be sadder for it."

Just as Anthony was going to reply there was a knock on the door. Nurse Johnson peeked around and informed them that visiting hours were ending. "I'm sorry sir, but you'll have to leave now. Your lady needs her rest."

Glancing at the woman, Anthony nodded. "Yes…of course." He stood and looked at Edith. "We'll talk more in the morning?"

"I'm uncertain what there is left to be said. But again, please…don't call my father."

Frowning, Anthony shook his head. "I must; surely you understand."

Letting out her breath, Edith seemed to deflate like a balloon with a hole in it. "No, I don't. But I haven't understood anything since the day you walked away from me, so there is nothing new in that."

"Edith…" he stepped closer but heard a loud harrumph from the nurse. "Alright then, I won't call him…tonight. But I'll be back in the morning," he quickly told her.

"That's something, I suppose," she said wearily.

Anthony walked out of the door, Mrs. Johnson hard on his heels. "Sir," she said breathily. "I thought you were her husband. Am I mistaken?"

Turning to the woman, Anthony nodded negatively. "I am not; I was going to be but…well, I'm not. She deserves someone younger and whole."

"Beggin' your pardon, sir; but I nursed during the war. I saw what was left of her age that came back. She might find one younger but there aren't too many that's whole." Anthony nodded his acknowledgement and left.

* * *

I don't know much about St. Bart's except that it is old and it is in London. So if my description was off, I apologize. It was just the only hopsital name I knew. As for Anthony...seems he has some thinking to do.

Thanks to everyone for the lovely reviews. You make my heart go pitter patter;-) ANd it keeps me typing too.


	18. The Magic Stone

Anthony's mind was spinning as he made his way back to Agatha's home. She loved him, his Edith loved him…in spite of everything…_everything_, his mind insisted. He tried to think rationally, to recall the reasons why he had not gone through with the wedding, but a gnawing sensation was growing in his belly as her words echoed in his mind.

Agatha and Miles were in the drawing room when he arrived. "Well little brother, there you are! Where have you been all day? I knew you were upset after dinner last night but really…don't you think you over reacted just a bit?"

Blinking, momentarily surprised by her questions, Anthony hesitated as he walked into the room. Miles saw his turmoil and jumped in. "Give him a moment to catch his breath, Aggie… judging his appearance, he's had a frightful day."

Anthony sighed and nodded his appreciation at his brother-in-law. "Yes actually, it has been rather eventful," he said as he fell into a nearby chair.

Agatha's eyes narrowed as she watched her brother. Sisterly concern cautioned her to go slowly but it wasn't in her nature. "What happened?"

Looking up at his sister wearily, Anthony began to tell her about Robert's phone call and his search for Edith. "That brute worked her over quite viciously," he said with desolately. "Her face is almost unrecognizable and…" he paused, deciding not to share the information the nurse had let slip about a possible baby.

"And?" his sister grilled.

"And we …talked. She…she says she loves me, Aggie. How can that be? After I …what I did to her…how can she?"

Miles and Agatha exchanged glances before she replied. "She loves you because she sees who you are, little brother. She knows what a treasure you are. She's a smart girl, I should think," she concluded with a wink.

Anthony rolled his eyes and looked away diffidently. "I hurt her deeply," he murmured.

"And yet, she loves you," Agatha reminded him. "So now, what are you planning to do with this information?"

"I'm not certain. I…I still have my reservations…"

"Look old boy, I don't want to try to force you into anything," Miles chimed in. "But it seems to me that everything is quite clear. Marry the girl and put the both of you out of your collective misery."

"But…" Anthony began but Agatha interrupted. "Miles is right. If you let this opportunity go by, then you are a fool, Anthony…and you are no fool. Quit worrying about all the reasons you've concocted in that very busy head of yours and marry her. You've been miserable and you have only yourself to blame. Worse perhaps, is that you've made her miserable as well."

Studying the faces of his sister and her husband, Anthony took a deep breath. Both were staring pointedly at him, willing him to concede. "Yes well… I have much to consider," he replied. "But for tonight, I am very tired. If you don't mind, I'll go on up and see you in the morning."

"Oh course," Miles agreed. "Just…think about it?"

Pausing at the door, Anthony turned. "Miles, I don't think I can think of anything else right now."

That night, Anthony awoke from a nightmare, screaming Edith's name. Miles rushed into his room when the screams travelled down the hall. "Anthony, old boy… it's alright. It's alright…" he consoled Anthony. "It was only a dream…it is alright." But as he was consoled by his brother-in-law Anthony wondered if things would ever be alright for him again.

Morning came quickly. After breakfast Anthony placed a call to Locksley and after ascertaining that all was well, asked for Emma to be put on the line. "Anotee?" she said softly into the phone. "Where are you? I miss you."

"I'm still in London, little one. It might be a few days until I am able to return but I will be back by the end of the week."

"But why you not here? You said you was coming back the day before the other day. I want you."

"I know Emma. But a friend is hurt and I must help her. You understand, don't you? I can't leave her until I know she is alright."

"But I'm your friend," she said sadly.

"You are more than a friend, my sweet little one. And I promise I will be home soon."

"Who your friend you helping?"

She's …oh um….well, it's Lady Edith."

"The fairy?" Emma exclaimed excitedly. "You helping your fairy?"

"Yes, something like that…yes."

"That's good," she said happily. "You gotta help the fairy."

Anthony chuckled. "Yes, I suppose I should."

"Anotee?"

"Yes Emma?"

"You got your magic stone?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Anthony replied. "It is in my pocket. I'll need some magic if I am to make things right with Lady Edith."

"Good. The stone has lots of magic."

"I hope so. Now, would you put Mrs. Paxton on the line please?"

"Okay," she said just before loud rattling noises sounded through the phone. Anthony spoke briefly with the governess and then hung up. Gathering his courage, Anthony headed to the hospital, Emma's magic stone securely in his pocket. Making his way to Edith's room, he came to a decision. He prayed that this time, it would be the right one. When he stepped into her room, she looked at him and her eyes lit with happiness. Her expression both frightened and buoyed him.

That chatted idly for a few minutes, him asking how she was feeling and her asking how he slept. Both told small lies as the assured the other that the night had passed smoothly. Finally, swallowing deeply and gathering his courage, Anthony plunged. It really wasn't any of his business and he had no right to ask but he had to know. "The nurse said….well, she told me… are you…" He glanced down at her abdomen. "Are you expecting, Edith?"

She burst into tears. Stunned, Anthony was unsure at first what he should do. Tilting his head and leaning closer to her, he took her hand. "Please…don't cry. Please my darling, I….I don't want you to cry." She tried to wipe away her tears with her hands but they kept flowing. Anthony pulled his handkerchief from his jacket and began to dab at her eyes. "Please my sweet one…please tell me what has happened. I simply want to help you."

She nodded and he could see she was trying to regain her control. Anthony sat patiently as she took the handkerchief from him and began to wipe away her tears. "I'm so ashamed; I…am," she sniffled. "At least, I think I am. The doctor hasn't…he thought I might have lost it from my injuries. He hasn't said…"

"The nurse just told me yesterday that the baby survived," he soothed. "Is it Gregson's?" he asked tentatively.

Edith nodded, not looking up at him. "I…after I saw you with your family at the train in Downton…I was so angry. I came to London and…he'd told me he loved me and….I…I was so angry and hurt and…and…"

Anthony patted her hand. "Yes, of course you were hurt. I'm sorry, my sweet. I've behaved very foolishly. But I don't understand what it is you think you saw at the train."

"You were gone so long. Where did you go?" She fidgeted as she asked, her eyes on her hands as if she were afraid to look at him.

Accepting her change of topic temporarily, Anthony answered. "I went to America. I…needed to get away. It was too painful to stay at Locksley without…well, knowing you'd never come visit me there again."

Edith looked at him in disbelief. "It was your own fault that I would never go there again," she accused.

Anthony swallowed. "Yes, yes, I know…. I broke both of our hearts, didn't I?" He watched as she stared at his chest undecidedly. And as her eyes looked back at his, he felt a thud in his chest that nearly toppled him. How could he have acted so foolishly? She loved him; it made no sense but she did and he had thrown it away over some irrational notion of honor. And it had cost them both so much; his idiocy had almost cost her very life.

Not looking away, he faced his absurdity and made a decision to end it. "I thought getting away would help, but it didn't," he confessed. She said nothing but continued to watch him expectantly. "Wherever I went, I felt you there…even talked to you occasionally," he smiled sadly. "I wondered how you were getting along, if you'd met someone, and then it hurt to think that you had. There are some things I need to explain but not here, not now. Just please know that I am here for you, if you want me. I don't understand why you would but…. Oh my sweet one, I've missed you so terribly, terribly much."

Tears rolled down her face again quietly. "But what about your wife? Your family?"

Anthony blinked and took a deep breath. "Wife? I don't know what you mean."

"She was with you…on the platform when you arrived back home…your wife and a son and a daughter. I saw them. Don't you remember? Your little girl was lost and…."

"Oh Emma," he said, relieved to finally understand to what she was referring. "Emma is my ward. I'll explain it all but for now you simply need to know that she isn't my daughter but the granddaughter of…of a friend." Anthony hesitated to claim Clarissa as a friend but they had become friends and it seemed the simplest explanation for now. "The woman you saw is Mrs. Paxton, her nanny and the boy is her son. I haven't married Edith; I couldn't. No other woman affects me as you do. No woman could ever occupy my heart as you have."

Relief flooded her features as tears began to roll down her face again. "You…you're not …married?"

"No my sweet, I am not," he assured her as he reached for her hand.

"I assumed…and I…." Horror gathered in her eyes and he could anticipate where her mind was going. "I thought you …and …how could I have been so reckless," she growled angrily.

"Please, my darling….don't think that. You misunderstood but…well, I seem to be the master of foolishness here; after all, I am the one who walked away," he said softly. Taking a deep breath, he forged ahead with his decision to rectify matters. "And I am here today to apologize and ask your forgiveness…" Edith opened her mouth to speak but Anthony squeezed her hand, stopping her. "And yes, I do require forgiveness from you. I've made a mess of everything. But if…if what you said last night…if you do love me as I love you….if I haven't completely alienated you, perhaps you would consider…" he paused, shaking his head. "This isn't right," he muttered as he pushed back the chair.

Sliding down on one aging and somewhat creaky knee, he leaned as close to her bed as he could and once again took her hand in his. "Lady Edith Crawley, my sweet one…could you possibly forgive this old fool and make him joyously happy by agreeing to be his wife? My dearest darling, will you marry me?"

Her eyes glistened as she watched and listened. Fearfully watching her, Anthony hoped she would accept him, although he had every reason to believe she would not. Her eyes studied him intensely as little tears formed once again and sat just inside her lower lids. Edith moved her head slowly back and forth in disbelief as he watched her struggle to find words. It was the longest few seconds of his life and, he mused, the most important.

"I…I can't…" she wailed.

"Yes, of course," he mumbled, hastily standing and retreating a few steps. "I can't blame you for…well, after what I did, no one can blame you…" His hand searched in his pocket for Emma's stone, a last bit of hope still flickering in spite of her response. Closing his eyes in concentration, he tried to think.

* * *

Once again I was left in awe of the sweet, sometimes funny, and always kind reviews ont he last chapter. Andith people are the best!

That said, I've left you all hanging again. It has been a tough week at work (the boss has been hovering) and the writing hasn't been as easy to manage. Be assured I am working on getting you all off the cliff soon;-) Meantime, those fresh vegetables you are throwing at me will be canned and stored for winter:-8


	19. Overcoming Damages

This one is really short. But I felt bad about leaving you on a cliff, so here it is.

* * *

Anthony stood watching Edith, wondering how he could change her mind; no, more like if... "I understand," he finally said. "It was foolish of me to ask after the way I treated you...last time."

"No, it isn't that," she said as the tears streamed down her face. "It's …well, I'm damaged goods," she blurted, recalling her mother's words to Mary so many years ago. "And…and if there is a baby…" she choked back a sob, frantic with despair.

Catching on quickly, Anthony moved back to her bedside. "Oh my dearest…no, no you mustn't ….you…no…." Taking her hand in his again, he looked at her pleadingly. "In my eyes you are the most beautiful creature that has graced my existence. You are not damaged; you are perfect, so wonderfully perfect _for me_. Any damage that you might perceive is my doing. If I hadn't …well, I have no right to hold what's happened against you…ever. And as for your child, it will be my child too; it _should_ be my child. My only hope is that one day there will be another. Whatever happens, Gregson need never know the truth about this child."

"But you can't….what if it is a boy?" Edith looked at him appalled.

"A boy would be quite welcome," he smiled anxiously. "If it is a boy, I think we should name it Phillip Robert, after our fathers."

"But…your title, your estate…"

Anthony smiled. "My title is not so grand and I daresay that not all the Strallan men are Strallan by blood. I'm told my grandfather's grandmother was quite a flirt and had many lovers, much to her husband's dissatisfaction. The purity of the line has been in doubt ever since. So you see my sweet, I have nothing to protect in that regard. As for the estate…there is enough to share. I'm already raising one child, another shouldn't be too much greater a task."

"But you said she is your ward. You haven't claimed her as your own. This would be different" She was looking up at him incredulously.

"She isn't my own. Emma is a dear sweet child who needs me, but she isn't my own. Any baby you carry, whether now or in the future _is _my own, because you are the mother. If I hadn't behaved so irrationally, this would be my child in every way and I wish to claim it as such. You have my heart Edith; you've had it for years now. Please, forgive me for being such a silly man and relieve me of this misery…marry me."

"You won't…I don't think I could bear it if you…"

"No my sweet one, I will not walk away. But just to ensure that I don't, we'll be married immediately by a magistrate. We can have a church ceremony later if you like, but the moment you are released from here, I want us to be married."

She looked at him hopefully. "Yes, yes…that would be wonderful, so very wonderful." Anthony looked past all the swelling and bruising into her eyes. "I know that my actions seem to the contrary but I do love you, Edith. I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you and attempting to make you happy."

"Could you begin now? Would you kiss me?"

Breathing a sigh of relief and happiness, Anthony leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. She grabbed his shirt and held him close. "No, really kiss me," she demanded. Carefully, gently, he touched his lips to hers and felt that finally his world was right. He spent the day with her, the two of them making plans and talking about a future, their future.


	20. Facing A Storm

PBS is replaying Downton Abbey here and I think I'm shipping the good ship Andith even more. Anthony was so loveably awkward in season one. And he didn't seem the least bit upset that Mary declined to go for that ride in the car. He was such a happy,affable fellow then. Still RB played it so well, hinting at an underlying uneasiness in Anthony, as if he felt his awkwardness but was determined to fit in. While he was a little surprised in Edith's attentions, I don't think he felt undeserving and in the garden party scene when they spoke, he seemd hurt and also a little angry.

Compare that Anthony with the one we see in season 3 and it is heartbreaking. He's still a nice, very agreeable man, but there is an underlying sadness to him. And where he felt awkward before, he seems to feel totally inadequate in season 3. Watching his facials in his scenes with Edith, he seems totally mystified, tickled, and somewhat wary that she should have any interest in him.

I just find him to be a very interesting character and Mr. Bathurst played him with such depth, even though Fellowes didn't do him justice. Enough with my mutterings though...on with the story!

* * *

Although Edith protested, Anthony did call her father. The family had to be terribly worried, he explained to her and deserved to know where she was. He also assured her that Robert wouldn't hear about a possible baby and that he would inform her father of their plans to marry. He did all of that evening after returning to Agatha's house. Much to her chagrin and his surprise, Robert appeared only an hour after Anthony arrived back in her room the next morning.

"Edith, we've been looking everywhere for you!" Robert exclaimed after he knocked and Anthony opened the door to her room.

"I'm sorry to have worried you PaPa," she responded sheepishly.

"But why did no one call me until now?" Robert looked quite agitated and was frowning as he studied his daughter's appearance.

Edith looked guiltily at Anthony. "I asked Anthony not to call you; he wanted to immediately after he found me but I made him promise. I didn't want to worry anyone; I'm alright…or I will be."

Robert looked from his daughter to Anthony, who was feeling every bit as guilty as Edith looked. Remembering Cora's admonishment earlier over the phone, he forced himself to remain calm. She had warned him that his temper would cause trouble and he'd best hold it in check. Looking back at Edith, he struggled to do so. "Are you? Really? Because right now as I'm looking at you, that doesn't appear to be the case." Robert paused, trying to calm himself. Anthony watched the expression on her face; saw her uneasiness and trepidation gathering even before Robert spoke again. "Who did this to you? Has he been arrested?"

"No, he hasn't," she replied. "I…I haven't reported it."

"What!" Robert exploded. "Why the devil not?" His temper was rising after seeing her injuries, in spite of his best efforts.

Anthony stepped in. "She was afraid, Robert… afraid of him and also afraid of your reaction. Please, let's let Edith decide how to proceed."

Robert turned to him and unleashed his anger. "I blame you for this. Edith has not been reasonable since you left her at the altar. If not for your appalling behavior she would have been at home… safe."

"PaPa," Edith exclaimed as dismay over took Anthony. She looked between the two men and then set her jaw firmly, ready to do battle with her father. Anthony regained his composure and intervened before she could. "What you say is most certainly true," he told Robert. "And I blame myself as well. However, I intend to set things right, beginning with supporting Edith in whatever she wishes to do about her attacker."

Robert blinked. His head seemed to swivel from Anthony to Edith and back to Anthony as he absorbed Anthony's declaration. Turning back and looking at Edith thoughtfully, he sighed. "It was Gregson, wasn't it? It had to have been…he denied seeing you and you would've reported it had you not known the person." Edith nodded affirmation slowly, looking sheepishly at her hands. The sound of Robert letting out a long breath of air filled the room.

He glanced back at Anthony. "You knew it already, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. I want justice as much as you, Robert; but it is Edith's choice. She hasn't said as much but I believe she is fearful of what his newspaper connections might mean… how he might use them to tarnish the family."

Robert took a deep breath. He walked to the window in the small room and looked out for a moment, deep in thought. Anthony watched him, ready to argue for Edith, if necessary. Edith refused to look up, feeling the weight of her actions and her father's disappointment. Suddenly Robert turned and looked at his daughter. "I don't care about his connections or what he might do with them, Edith. Once the family honor might have been paramount to me, but it is your honor that concerns me now; your honor and even more…your happiness," he said as he looked pointedly at her. "And Gregson must be made to pay."

She looked up, surprised. "My happiness? Really? So you will be happy when I marry Anthony? You and Granny were so hostile before…"

Robert looked from one to the other, first in surprise and then settling back onto his heels, he almost smiled. "I cannot and dare not speak for your grandmother. But you will hear no objections from me. You had convinced me before that Anthony was your choice and I realize now that I probably did not express my acceptance of the situation very well. I did however try to argue in Anthony's favor with your grandmother. Of course, one never really wins an argument with her and her objections remained. But you have my blessing, Edith. I know I must seem harsh at times, but I really do want you to be happy."

Edith's smile beamed as she looked up at her father. "Thank you." Then she glanced at Anthony. "You heard that?"

Looking at his soon to be wife adoringly, Anthony smiled. "I did." Stepping toward Robert, he offered his hand. "I do plan to ensure her happiness."

Robert shook his hand and with a hint of mischief in his voice asked, "I take it this means you will follow through?"

Looking somewhat disconcerted, Anthony nodded. Then meeting Robert's eyes resolutely, he answered. "Most decidedly."

Smiling at him, Robert gave a subtle nod of approval. "And this will take place when?"

"As soon as the doctor releases Edith," Anthony replied quickly. "We'll go to the magistrate that very day. I won't give her a moment to doubt my resolve. Later if she wants it, then we will have a ceremony in a church."

Robert's eyes widened in surprise, "Why the hurry? Surely you can wait until a proper ceremony can be arranged?"

"We could," Anthony said softly, "but …I can't bear to think of Edith doubting me and if we marry immediately, then she won't have a moment to wonder. My behavior last time was deplorable and I won't let her worry that it might be repeated. No, we won't wait."

Turning to look at his daughter, who was looking at her intended with wide, adoring eyes, Robert cleared his throat. "This suits you?" he asked Edith.

Smiling so widely that Anthony thought it must be painful, Edith shook her head. "Oh yes, Papa. It suits me very well."

Taking a deep breath, Robert smiled warmly. "Well then, it is good that your mother is already on her way to London. If you don't mind, we'd like to go to the magistrate's with you."

Beaming with happiness, Edith looked at Anthony imploringly. "I think that would make us both very happy," she answered her father. Anthony nodded his agreement as his blue eyes glistened brightly at her.

Robert lingered a few more minutes and then left to meet his wife's train. Anthony pulled the chair close to Edith's bed and took her hand in his. "Now you see, that wasn't too terrible…was it?"

Edith looked at him adoringly, melting his heart. "No it wasn't." Her expression changed to sadness though and she muttered, "but he doesn't know all of it."

"No, and he won't unless you decide to tell him. We'll marry, have a honeymoon, and announce after we get back that things are going along even better than we could have hoped. The baby's arrival will simply be a bit premature. We'll come to London for the birth if you wish. That way, the timing will be a little ambiguous."

There was a soft knock at the door before it opened and a middle aged man of abundant proportions stepped into the room. "Hello," he smiled at Edith and then looked inquiringly at Anthony. "I'm Dr. Hemphill," he said as he held out his right hand to Anthony. "Yes, yes…Lady Edith's doctor," Anthony acknowledged as he shook the doctor's hand awkwardly with his left. The doctor looked at him cautiously and tilted his head. "And you are?"

"Anthony Strallan," Anthony smiled uneasily.

"Well, Mr. Strallan…." Edith interrupted with a soft, "Sir Anthony." Dr. Hemphill paused and looked from Anthony to her. "Beg pardon?" he asked curiously.

Edith smiled at him confidently. "He is Sir Anthony Strallan," she said candidly. "Anthony doesn't like to flaunt his title but he does have one…and you may address me as Lady Edith." Anthony had to refrain from chuckling as the doctor fought to regain his composure. "Of course," the man said as he cleared his throat. "I didn't realize…I'm very sorry."

Anthony's eyes settled on the man in a tolerant if somewhat impatient gaze. "Not at all; you had no way of knowing. But please, continue. I'd like to hear how Lady Edith is recovering."

"Yes…oh… of course…" the doctor said as he stepped closer to the lady in question. "Other than the obvious bruising and what not, _Lady_ Edith is doing quite alright, I would say," he told Anthony, ignoring Edith. "I was concerned about the baby at first since there was so much bruising to her midsection, but everything seems well enough with the infant. She'll need to be very careful and get plenty of rest…but that's just as a caution. As long as she is careful, I see no reason the little one wouldn't arrive on schedule in abut 7 and a half months." Hemphill smiled at Anthony, pleased with his pronouncement.

"So when will she be released and I can take her home?" Anthony asked the man.

"Oh, I see no reason why that couldn't happen today," the doctor replied. "She can leave as soon as arrangements can be made." Turning to Edith, he looked at her sternly. "You understand, you must take things easy for another week or two…lots of rest. And when you do get home, have your doctor have a look, just so he knows the situation."

"Of course Doctor," Anthony answered for her. "I assure you, Lady Edith will get the very best care Yorkshire has to offer."

"Yorkshire, eh? I've a sister in Ripon. Perhaps you know her…Emily Thornton? Her husband Paul has the inn there."

"No, I'm afraid we haven't had the pleasure," Anthony said kindly. "But I have heard the inn is quite nice. Your sister and her husband run a pleasant establishment." Edith grinned as Dr. Hemphill smiled broadly. "Yes, they do…" he said warmly. "Well, I'll just go start the arrangements and you and Lady Edith should be free to leave within the hour."

Once the door closed behind the doctor, Edith began to laugh. Anthony looked at her in surprise. "What?" he asked, a grin lighting his face.

"You certainly worked him rather well….poor man never even realized it. He thought we are married. And some might have thought you to be so awkward with people all this time…." Feeling happier than he had in any recent memory, Anthony looked down at his lovely Edith and could do nothing but smile.


	21. Preparations

Instead of writing, I spent last night and this morning reading all the wonderful STEAMM stories. What fun! I chose not to participate since I'm in the middle of this one and struggling to find writing time. But I have enjoyed all the stories. Well done everybody!

* * *

Robert returned with Cora just as a nurse came in to help Edith dress. Cora took over, taking on her role as mother and chasing the men out. Anthony looked worriedly down the hall; his anxiety wasn't lost on Robert. "Thinking of bolting again?" he said darkly.

Startled, Anthony turned abruptly, his eyes wide. "No, not at all. It's just…Edith has only the clothes she was brought in with and Agatha was bringing something for her to wear. But she isn't here and…"

Robert's eyes lit. "Cora brought something but if it is a stalling tactic that you need… Surely two seasoned campaigners such as we can come with a proper tactic?"

Grinning broadly, Anthony nodded. "Yes, of course… it's just…well, I don't seem to be able to think very clearly at the moment…"

Chuckling, Robert turned back to Edith's door. "Let me handle it." Knocking softly, he opened the door and spoke softly to someone, Anthony guessed it was his wife, and then softly closed the door. Anthony looked at him, bewildered. "What did you do?"

Robert straightened his shoulders and smiled. "What any good general does, of course; I delegated to my best commander. Cora has the situation under control."

Robert's management of the situation made Anthony laugh and he realized he wasn't nervous, not really; not at all like the last time. He felt no tension in his neck and shoulders and he could relax, if only a little. He felt Robert's gaze before he saw it. With a sheepish smile, Anthony shrugged. "I'm alright."

Patting him on his left shoulder, Robert nodded his understanding. "I believe you," he said quietly.

"It's just…last time…when she looked up at me, through the veil and…she looked so happy; radiantly so and I thought…no, no…I wasn't thinking. It frightened me. She looked so happy and I know what the future will bring. I know…" he sighed. "I know the day will come when she won't look at me like that and…"

"I think you are wrong, Anthony." Robert interrupted. "I might have agreed with you that day; no, I know I would have. But seeing what she has been like since you left….no, I think Edith's feelings for you are very real and the only way you could disappoint her would be to leave again. Were she still a girl, I might not be able to say this; but she's not so I can say with all honesty that she has chosen you knowing what the future holds as well. And she's ready to face that as long as you are together. The two of you will face challenges other couples never even consider and it won't always be easy; but then marriage never is really. You love her Anthony; it is as plain as the nose on your face. Just…keep loving her and everything will be fine."

Taking a deep breath, Anthony replied, "thank you for that. I do love her and I want only one thing…her happiness."

"Old boy, that was never in doubt. Now where is your sister? We can only stall for so long; or should I say, Cora can?"

Relieved by Robert's words and by the change of topic, Anthony shook his head. "I don't know. She should have been here by now. I called her while I was making the arrangements. Robert's surprised look somehow eased his tension. "What arrangements?" Robert asked.

"A friend at the Home Office made a call and arranged for the Magistrate. I um…well, I thought flowers might be…appropriate. We have a suite at the Savoy and we'll leave for Locksley in the morning. After Edith is sufficiently healed from her injuries, we'll honeymoon wherever she wishes to go."

Robert eyed him approvingly. "Well done, Anthony. Now if only your sister would arrive … I'm sure Edith is growing anxious."

"Yes well…" just then they head footsteps on the hall floor and looked in the direction of the sound. Anthony sighed in relief when he recognized Agatha and Miles. "That fool driver of ours went to the wrong hospital," she exclaimed as they approached. Robert held out his hand to take the garment bag from Miles, who was breathing heavily from the long strides to keep up with his wife.

While Robert took the bag to Cora, Miles pulled Anthony aside. "All the arrangements are made as you said. Flowers are being delivered to the Magistrate's office and also to the hotel. Agatha over ruled your dinner suggestion and the staff is making ready an early dinner at our house. We'll invite Lord and Lady Grantham and have a pleasant meal before we give you and your bride a proper send off. And I've brought a change of clothes for you. Agatha insisted that if your bride was to be dressed so charmingly, then you should try and hold up your end."

Anthony sighed. "So where is the fresh suit?"

"A nurse showed me an empty room. I've put your clothes there. And I'll help you if needed."

Grateful for his family's help, Anthony nodded his appreciation. "Alright then, show me the way." Then turning to Robert and Agatha, he spoke softly. "I'll be back in just a few minutes. Miles it seems, is here as my valet."

When Anthony returned, wearing a dark blue suit instead of his more casual tweed jacket, Cora was chatting with Agatha. All eyes turned to him, which made him self conscious. "Is Edith ready?" he asked Cora.

"Yes, she is but you are not to see her until we reach the Magistrate's office. Robert and I will bring her along in our car."

"What? Oh yes…I'm not to see her before the wedding… I understand," he said, becoming flustered again. "But the hospital…I must take care of that," he muttered.

"Already done," Robert said.

"But I thought…she is about to be my wife; I thought I might…"

"Consider it my last responsibility to her," Robert teased. "From now on, Edith and her expenses will be yours."

"What? She isn't…" he began; irritated that he would speak of her in that manner. "Oh…you are joking," Anthony sighed as he relaxed upon seeing the expression on Robert's face.

"Yes I am. Her bill has been settled but of course, she will always be my daughter and it will be my responsibility to ensure that you always treat her properly as she deserves," he said a little more pointedly, still with a smile.

Anthony saw Cora smile and heard Miles chuckle beside him. Still, Robert's words unsettled him. "But of course…I thought…we talked, I thought you understood that I…I would never treat her otherwise."

"Oh Anthony, sometimes you are far too serious," Agatha said lightly. "Of course he is simply having fun with you. We all know that you will treat dear Edith well."

Closing his eyes to calm himself, Anthony let out a long breath. "Yes, of course. It's just that her happiness is most important to me; it hurts to know how much damage I have already done."

It was Cora's soft grip on his arm that steadied his emotions. "As I told Edith, your love has been tested and is still strong. You will be fine; you both will. And your marriage will be strong because you know how fragile things can be. You know what you have is worth fighting for. We are here for you, all of us; here in support and in celebration. You are right for our Edith, Anthony; we know that now but most importantly, Edith has always known that."

Anthony looked down at her hand on his arm and then into her soft blue eyes. Her words were genuine and reassured him. "Thank you. Yes, I do know that Edith is worth fighting for and I want you to know, as her mother, that I will always hold her interests above my own. Edith will be loved even with my dying breath."

Cora smiled at him and nodded. "Then perhaps we should get to the Magistrate's office before it closes?"

Happily, Anthony nodded and turned to Miles. "We go in your car?"

"Indeed we do," Miles chuckled. "Let's hurry; you have an appointment with your future."

They walked down the hall, Anthony and his sister and her husband. All three were quiet and all three smiled; although as they walked, Anthony's smile became more nervous and a worried furrow crossed his brow. When they were finally seated in the car, Agatha looked at her brother. "What is bothering you now, brother?"

"I just hope I can follow through with my intentions to make her happy."

Frustrated, Agatha huffed. "Oh Anthony, honestly… relax and enjoy the day. You're marrying the girl of your dreams."

Letting her words settle over him, Anthony settled back into his seat. "I am," he said rather smugly. "She is the girl in all of my dreams."


	22. A Wedding

The Strallan party made it to the Magistrate's office first. Consequently, Anthony found himself standing in the middle of the room, Miles and Agatha seated in chairs near the door. Anthony thought about sitting but he was too nervous, too excited. So he tried to stand still instead. Finally the door to the outer office opened and Cora stepped in, smiling warmly. Anthony froze, trying to look past her; if only he could see Edith, his nerves would settle, he thought. Robert stepped through next, also grinning. He turned and held out his hand, which was immediately taken by Edith's slender one.

His eyes wide and his feet seemingly stuck to the floor, Anthony could have sworn his heart stopped. She was wearing the same gown as she had worn the day he walked away; and she still looked so lovely in it that he couldn't breathe. Her eyes sparkled through the veil, eager and happy and looking only at him. As mesmerized as he was, Anthony wasn't anxious this time…not like he had been before. No, this time he was certain and he smiled at her, trying to silently tell her it was alright, he was alright.

Robert led her to stand beside him. Her proximity seemed to start his heart again and now it was racing as he looked at her. "You look…" he couldn't think of the right words and his hesitation seemed to alarm her. Her smile waned as she peered at him through the veil and he knew he had to say something…anything. "Oh my sweet darling, you look lovely, so very lovely. You quite take my breath away." Her sparkle came back and she smiled up at him, her expression full of promise. Closing his eyes to let it all sink in, Anthony heard Robert say something about beginning. Opening his eyes, he looked straight into her bright ones. "Yes, yes let's. We've waited far too long on happiness."

The ceremony was over quickly. There was a tense moment when the Magistrate began and Anthony felt all eyes on him but as the moment passed and he was still standing there, everyone relaxed. His lips were still tingling from kissing his bride and still, Anthony could not take his eyes off of her. From somewhere in the room he heard Miles. "Well, if the groom thinks he can manage it, Agatha and I would like everyone to come to dinner. We'll celebrate and then send these two off to their new adventure."

Anthony heard the voices agreeing; he saw Edith's eyes flutter away as her mother whispered something in her ear. But as soon as her mother left her side, Edith's attention was back on him. It seemed she couldn't keep from watching him either. Miles leaned over to Anthony and whispered. "We're riding with the Crawleys. You and Edith take our car. We'll see you at the house in a few minutes?"

Anthony nodded, his eyes still on is bride. They would suffer through the meal and then they could be alone. And he had so many things to say to her, so many things to explain. But first, he simply wanted to hold her close and tell her how very much he loved her.

The ride to Agatha's was awkward in Anthony's estimation. He wanted so much to hold her, to kiss her, to love her; but decorum dictated that they remain seated next to one another, so close that they touched and yet, they weren't to do any of those things. She looked at him nervously and he smiled in an attempt to be reassuring. "You look so beautiful," he said breathlessly.

"Thank you. It was Mama's idea to wear this gown again. She brought it with her after Papa told her it was you who found me. She knew… somehow, she knew. I thought…well…"

"What?" he asked curiously.

"Well, it seemed like bad luck or…perhaps a little maudlin. "And the color…I really had no right to wear it but how could I tell that to Mama?"

He saw her genuine concern over those details and tried to think of a comforting response. Reaching for and grasping her hand, he squeezed. "You have every right…you come to me pure in spirit," he whispered beneath his breath. "And I'm glad you wore it; somehow it seems appropriate. I can't explain it but when I saw you in this dress it …well, I'll admit it startled me for a moment but then…it seemed perfect; perhaps because you are so perfect."

She looked up at him adoringly. It was a look he hoped to see until his dying breath. "I'm not perfect," she replied.

"You are for me," he returned just as the car pulled in front of the house.

Dinner was agonizingly long, Anthony thought. As he glanced at Edith's face, he thought she must be feeling the same. Afterwards there were some toasts and a few minutes of celebration. Then Miles suggested that they let the newlyweds leave; a suggestion for which Anthony was most grateful.

The Chetwood's driver took them to the Savoy, Anthony seated once again with his bride in the back, so close and yet unable to touch her in any of the ways he wanted most to do. The suite he had reserved had a common room with seating and also a bedroom. As Anthony paid the bellman and turned to Edith, he paused. She stood in the middle of the room dressed in the more casual frock Agatha had bought for her, looking around with a look of enchantment on her face. There were flowers on every table in the room, it seemed. He had made a point of ordering some of her favorites, which the flower shop had told him that it would be hard to find as most were out of season. But they had managed a few. Mixed in were other varieties, all in colors intended to compliment Edith's coloring. On the center table was a large vase filled with roses, most were red but there were a few in different shades of pink in the arrangement a well. In the center, was a dark red rosebud. Edith looked all around the room and the turned to look back at him. "So many flowers?" she grinned happily.

"Yes, well….the lady at the flower shop asked what kind I wanted and I couldn't decide. I was much too excited, you see. And the roses….they have meaning, you know."

"I know red roses symbolize love," she offered, also knowing the meaning of the other rose colors; all the young ladies were taught such things by their governesses. But she obviously wanted to hear his explanation.

"Yes, and of course that is the intended meaning here. But the pink….the darker shades, well…I am just so grateful that you are here with me now; that you've given me another chance. And the lighter shades, they're a symbol of my admiration and also that you can believe me, believe that I intend to stand by you."

"And the rosebud in the center?"

"A symbol of your purity and loveliness," he answered softly, his emotions rising to the surface.

Edith looked away, the smile falling from her face. "But I am neither," she said wearily.

Anthony moved closer to her, reaching out and touching her arm. "But you are. Edith, you are so very lovely; so much so that at times it frightens me. And your heart is pure…and isn't that all that really matters?"

"But…" she turned to face him, her face divulging her sadness and worry.

Drawing her to him and holding her tight against his left side, Anthony nuzzled into her hair. Then whispering he told her, "oh my dearest, my sweet one, do you really not understand how utterly in love with you I am; how much I admire you and relish the sight of you, the sound of your voice. We've both made mistakes and I know I will regret mine always because I left you open to the manipulations of others. But perhaps our mistakes have led us here, to this moment where we know to cherish what we have found in one another. You mustn't ever think that I look at you with anything but love and admiration in my heart. I told you once that you have given me back my life; that is even truer now than it was then. One thing I have discovered in these intervening months is that without you, I am hopeless. I can breathe and I can function but I can't really live. I grieved not having you more than I have ever grieved anyone or anything in my life and having you here now beside me, being able to hold you like this is incomparable happiness."

"But it's just that I wish…" she sighed. "I wish this really were your baby inside of me."

Anthony turned her to face him and tilted her chin up so that he could look into her eyes. "My dearest as I've told you, it is. And when you've recovered from the birth of this little one, I hope we will discuss another one and perhaps even another later. And they will all be mine, every tiny little toe and every sticky little finger."

Tears began to roll down Edith's face, alarming Anthony. He didn't know what to say, how to console her. So he did the only thing he could think of, he pulled her to him, circled her with his arm, and kissed her on her head. She relaxed into his grasp, her body melding to his in surrender. Finally she spoke, "Please, I know I am a mess but do you think we could…I want…"

"What dear?"

"I want you to make me yours," she said firmly as she looked up at him.

Anthony didn't think his chest could contain the joy the filled him as she looked at him. She wanted him, really wanted him. But as he looked into her still bruised face, he knew what he must say…what he couldn't do, not yet. "But my sweet, you are still recovering. We must be careful so our little one isn't hurt. Let's leave that for later, when you are fully recovered."

"Then…why did you …why was it so important that we marry today then?" She looked at him, truly bewildered.

"Because I couldn't spend another night without you, my dearest; it doesn't mean we can't hold one another and perhaps cuddle a little. You must agree though that we don't want to endanger the baby, hmmmm?"

Edith sighed and her shoulders dropped in defeat. "I suppose."

"Why don't you go slip into whatever scandalous frock was packed for you and I'll be in shortly," he suggested.

Edith smiled at him, the tears finally gone and happiness once again shimmering in her eyes. "Perhaps I will wear nothing," she taunted.

"You saucy little wench," Anthony exclaimed, somewhat embarrassed by her suggestion but also very intrigued.

"You don't know the half of it," she tossed over her shoulder as she walked to the other room. Anthony watched her disappear behind the door, his heart hammering in his chest, and his head swimming with giddiness. How the devil was he going to keep his hands…well, hand off her, he wondered.

* * *

And so they are married. Is it truly winding down to a happy ending or are there more obstacles in their path? Only time will tell;-) But I do have more chapters roughed out so I can promise more soon.


	23. Getting to Know You All About You

Thank you all again for the lovely reviews and comments! You do make my day with them.

Real Life is intruding again as hubby dear's company sent his boss into a meeting to announce lay-offs effective immediately. They took a workforce of about 60 people down to 10 in about 15 minutes. Sadly, hubby dear is one of the 50. So we have a bit of thinking and planning to do! We'll be okay once we get over the shock of it, I think. It just happened so suddenly it caught us completely unprepared mentally and emotionally.

So anyway, there is more to their first night together but I haven't polished the writing yet, so it might take a few days. And that leads me to a very big question: I have two directions in my mind that their night could take. So um...smut or no smut? And just how smutty if that is your preferance? Right now Anthony has a mind to keep things rather platonic but Edith, I believe, has other ideas. So let me know what you think;-)

And btw, was I the only one that saw even more Anthony in Edwards' portrayal of Dreadson in the season opener? I mean seriously, he even had some of the mannerisms! But my scumbag radar was sounding alarms all through the episode. Hubby was laughing at me because everytime Dreadson showed up I was yelling, "run Edith, run!" Guess we'll have to wait and see where JF is taking us with that storyline.

Meantime, happy reading!

* * *

Anthony gave his bride a few minutes to prepare for bed and then gently knocked on the door that separated them. After hearing her soft response, "come in." he opened the door and stepped through. She was standing in the middle of the room, looking very bashful and demure in a diaphanous gown that hugged her breast and flowed almost to the floor. Standing frozen in his spot and speechless, Anthony couldn't imagine any sight more enticing than his Edith as she stood there watching him. His heart was pounding again and the room had grown considerably warmer. Her expression was changing and insecurity was creeping over his beloved, but he still couldn't move or speak, his eyes drinking in the sight of her as the enormity of what he had done sank in. There was no doubt about what she expected, what she hoped for and Anthony had to admit to himself that he wanted the same. But his more rational self kicked in and reminded him that she was not yet healed. Struggling to find a way to lessen the impact she as having on him, he finally took a few steps toward her. "I…I'm sorry, my sweet; its just that seeing you like that," he said gesturing at her gown, "struck me wordless," he continued softly with a huskiness that he didn't recognize.

Edith seemed to relax and smiled at him. "Really? I thought…you were so…quiet that I thought perhaps…."

Furrowing his brow slightly, Anthony tilted his head as he tried to understand what she wasn't saying. "Dearest, I know I might sound rather hypocritical but you must learn to trust me…that I'm not going to bolt again. I was quiet because I was speechless for a moment. You quite simply took my breath away. I've always thought you quite lovely and stunning but standing here…like that…I…I…" his mind groped for words. "Oh god Edith, what a fool I was…."

A smile crept into her features, taking over her face. Her brown eyes sparkled at him in delight. Then she glanced over her shoulder at the bed. "I'll just….I'll wait for you in the bed?" She looked back at him questioningly.

"Yes…right. I'll just, um….yes….I'm sure Stewart packed some night clothes," Anthony told her. "I um…I'll just change in …in the bathroom, " he stammered as he glanced at the door to the little room.

"Do you…" she hesitated. "Do you need help?"

Anthony smiled awkwardly. "I'll let you know if I do. Actually though, I got quite good at tending to myself on my journey, although I do still need help dressing formally."

"I'll wait then," she smiled at him.

Quickly Anthony snatched his pajamas from his bag and went into the bathroom. Unfastening his clothes proved to more difficult than usual because he was so anxious but he did manage on his own. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he let out a chortle. Can't imagine why she'd be the least bit interested, he thought as he took in his appearance. It seemed to him that along with the horrendous scar at his shoulder, every age line, every gray hair, and every wrinkle was putting in an appearance for this first night with his new bride. But then he remembered the sound of her voice when she told him, "I want you to make me yours," and it gave him courage. Giving one last self-deprecating glance to his image in the mirror, Anthony reminded himslef that this night would largely be platonic and left the room.

Edith was leaning against her pillows in the bed, her gown covering her but the bed clothes pushed aside. She looked up as he stepped into the room, her eyes alive with anticipation and a smile on her lips. And what lovely lips too, Anthony couldn't help thinking. Feeling nervous and awkward, he moved to the other side of the bed quietly; barely brave enough to steal glances at her. How he, or any man, was expected to contain himself with such a lovely creature waiting for him, was beyond imagination. Still, he knew he must be firm in his resolve, for both Edith's sake and the sake of the baby.

"I took this side," she said softly as he settled, "so that you could hold me with your left arm. I thought it might be easier."

Reminded of his disability, Anthony sighed. "Yes, it might," he admitted, both of his hands in his lap.

He felt her moving and wasn't surprised when she leaned against him. "You said you would hold me. I've waited for so many years just to have you hold me." Her voice was low, sadness underlying her tone.

Shifting to wrap his arm around her, holding her closer he whispered, "I've longed for this too, my sweet."

She snuggled against him, quiet for a few moments. Leaning his head against hers, Anthony felt immense contentment. Finally he spoke, afraid to break the mood but certain it was time. "My darling, I hope you understand that I've only wanted what is best for you. I'm still not quite convinced that I am that but I'm tired of doing battle with myself. It is my intention to spend the rest of my life making up for the pain I have inflicted upon you and I intend to lavish you with anything you desire."

A low chuckle rumbled next to his chest and her hand came up to rest over his heart, her fingers slowly circling over his pajama shirt. "Anything?"

"Yes, well… as much as I am capable. The estate does well but there are limitations."

"But you said anything. And right now all I desire is you."

Amused by her insistence, he kissed her temple. "Darling, I am all yours. But I assume you mean something on the physical side and we've already discussed this." Her answering sigh caused him to chuckle. "In due time, my sweet…"

"Alright then, "she said shifting to look up at him. "Then tell me something….talk to me. Tell me what you saw on your journey. Tell me about the little girl…Emma?"

So Anthony began to describe everything that happened after he walked away from the church all those months ago, how he'd drunk himself into a stupor and awakened to realize he couldn't stay where there were so many memories of her. He told her about sailing to America, visiting the historical places and about staying in Kansas and meeting Emma. She asked questions about the grandmother and was fascinated by his description of the airplane hangers. She laughed at her grandmother's behavior in New York and consoled him over the legions of unmarried women that others seemed to try to push at him. "And now I have a question for you," he said as he finished his narrative.

"What do you want to know," she said as she sat up and turned to face him.

"The day you introduced me to your editor…Gregson, I sensed some uneasiness between the two of you. Was seeing me with you….was that what made him…" he looked at the bruises on her face and gently reached to touch her jaw. "Is that why he did this to you?"

Edith looked down, her face suddenly grief filled. "No," she replied softly. "I'm not sure he even realized you were…" she looked up, into his eyes. "I don't think he knew that you were the one I've truly loved all this time." Anthony felt comforting warmth spread through him as she looked at him. "Then why?"

"I…we went back to my flat and I was trying to tell him….about the baby. But he only wanted to talk about a news series he was working on; that and he wanted to….well….you know."

"And that was reason to hurt you like this?"

"No. But when I backed away, I blurted out that I'm pregnant. He laughed; he just laughed at me. And then he said….he reminded me that he is married and told me I'm on my own with this. He said he wanted nothing to do with the little brat. It hurt to hear him say that and I lunged at him. That's when he…he slapped me and then he just kept hitting me. I don't remember how I got to the hospital; everything went dark and when I woke up, I was just….there." Tears ran down her cheeks and she wouldn't look at him, as if she were ashamed of what the lout had done to her.

"Oh my darling," he whispered as he tried to console her. "I understand why you don't want to report him, I think; but he really shouldn't be allowed to get away with what he has done. If I were…well, whole; I'd take care of matters myself."

"No," Edith exclaimed straightening up and staring at him. "I don't want you confronting him. I don't want him knowing anything about us. Let him think I died or something. I don't want to ever see or think about him again."

Seeing how upset she was, Anthony pulled her back to him. "Alright my sweet; Gregson no longer exists in our world. Beginning now we'll create our own little cocoon and we'll only allow those in that we wish to have in our lives. Once you're healed, we'll have our honeymoon and come back and you'll deliver our child. And we'll never give him another thought."

She moved again, peering up at him. "How can you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You keep calling it 'our baby' and seem to completely ignore who the father is." Her face was a mixture of contriteness and confusion.


	24. Naughty Details

Anthony considered his response. He really wasn't certain why it was so easy for him except that he didn't want to lose this last opportunity at happiness. "It is our baby and I will be its father," he insisted. "And I can say that because it is your baby; it is a part of you and you are a part of me, a part of my heart and the very core of my soul.. I took a vow today to love and honor you and claiming this baby as my own is a part of that. I am mystified that Gregson could be so callous and not want this child, but I can assure you that I do. I can't imagine a greater privilege than being a father to your child."

Suddenly Edith was attached to him, her body leaning into his as she kissed him. Her exuberance caught him off guard and Anthony nearly fell off the side of the bed. Captivated somewhere between amused and wildly aroused by her action, he was at a loss as to what to do beyond simply respond in kind; which he did. A fire seemed to ignite in both of them as the kisses grew more passionate and threatened to grow into something even more. It was Anthony who pulled away, struggling with his own self control and sensing that hers was lost. "Edith," he breathed heavily, "we mustn't…" She went limp against him, her head settling on his shoulder as she groaned her displeasure at his declaration. "Sometimes I think Mary was right about you," she moaned.

Confused at first, he sat still, holding her in his left arm and waiting for explanation. "About me?" When no answer came, his mind filtered back over the years to the garden party where Mary had told him Edith was dodging some old bore. "So you are finally realizing that I am an old bore," he chuckled, trying to change her mood.

"Not at all," she declared as she straightened up. "I've never thought that about you. You are the most interesting man I've ever met.

Mary should have never said that to you. But sometimes you are rather… old fashioned."

Seeing that his maneuver to change her mood had worked, Anthony leaned against the headboard of the bed again, pulling her with him, his hand gently stroking her back as she snuggled into him. "Why did she do that anyway?" he asked. "I was a fool for listening to her but if she hadn't said those things we'd have been long married by now." His strokes paused as he furrowed his brow. "That's of course assuming that you would have accepted me then…"

Her head shifted as she reached up and planted a gentle kiss on his neck. "And I would have." He felt her hesitation, some indecision in her manner as she remained quiet. Then finally, "she said those things because of what I had done to her. We fought all the time in those days. She was mad at me because…well, I wrote a letter that caused some discomfort for her."

"I knew you two didn't get along but I had no idea it was that bad. It was an awful thing for her to do to you…to us."

"Yes well, what I did was pretty awful too. Did you know we had a wager about you?" Her tone was inquisitive and also devious.

"A wager? About me? No…I wasn't aware. Whatever for?" He was intrigued.

"The night you were invited to dinner…the salty pudding night; you remember?"

"Good god, how could I forget," he chuckled.

"While you men were still in the dining room, Mary and I were having another spat in the drawing room. She was making fun of me for being so nice to you. I told her that I had enjoyed talking with you; that I found you interesting…and very nice. So of course, she wanted to keep you away from me. She said she could do it too ….and we made a wager. If you recall, we were both headed straight to you when you came into the drawing room. She drew you into a book about farming and modern industrialization. And you both left me hanging."

Anthony remembered that night. It was the first time he'd ever really been truly aware of young Edith Crawley. Even though Mary had distracted him and captured his interest somewhat, he'd taken away a rather happy memory of Edith as well. "Yes, well… I fell into her trap, I see," he said abashed. "I realized my folly promptly at our next meeting though, I assure you. Our jaunt in the car that afternoon convinced me that you were the sister I should be getting to know."

"It was a nice afternoon, wasn't it?"

"It kept me alive after I was wounded; that memory and a few others of you. When it was all too much, I'd think about that afternoon…about you and…well, I could manage then. But I'm curious. What was the letter that so upset your sister? Why did she feel the need to hurt both of us to spite you?"

Slowly she pulled away from him. :"I was childish and malicious…. And looking back, I was also jealous. Mary had everyone on her side; she was the beauty and was to marry father's heir. For years that was our cousin Patrick. When he died, I was devastated but Mary hardly noticed. And then along came Matthew and he had eyes only for her while she seemed to toss him away." She paused and looked away. "You probably remember the hunting party where the Turkish diplomat died in his bed?"

Watching her curiously, Anthony thought back. It had been so many years ago and so much had happened since but he remembered rumors. "Yes, I wasn't at that hunt. But I remember rumors about Mary and the young man."

"Yes…well…the truth is; he didn't die in his own bed; he died in Mary's."

Anthony was momentarily shocked but remembering Mary Crawley from those days, his shock fell away. She had been arrogant in his estimation, a perfect example in attitude of all that he disliked about the aristocracy. But he was still confused as to Edith's involvement in the story. "But you said something about a letter…what does that have to do with the diplomat?"

Edith moved away from him very subtly and sat up straight. Looking down, she said very softly. "I wrote a letter to the Head of the Turkish Consulate explaining how he died…and where. It caused quite a stir in London, I believe. One of the reasons Mama invited you to dinner was that the rumors had already been circulating and she wanted to marry Mary off quickly before she was completely ruined. My letter made things much worse"

It was so much to absorb and Anthony took a moment to process it all. "Your sister…had a foreign diplomat in her bed, under your father's roof, before she was married and presumably still chaste until that night?" He watched as she nodded nervously. "And he died? By your sister's hand or…"

"It was believed to be his heart," Edith quickly responded.

His thoughts were jumbled as he tried to make sense of it all. "So he was found in Mary's bed?" He was incredulous and somewhat scandalized.

"No…she enlisted the help of a maid and….Mama helped. They carried him back to his room and that's where he was found the next morning."

"Your parents went to great lengths to protect her reputation," he muttered thoughtfully.

"Mama did. Papa didn't know until years later. Matthew wanted to marry her but she was uncertain…feeling guilty about…what happened, I suppose."

"He knew?"

"I don't know when she told him but…yes, I think he did eventually."

Anthony was struggling to understand the events and Edith's role …and the implications for them later. "So you wrote a letter and….rumors spread about Mary. And your mother was trying to marry her off before the whole story became common knowledge. And I was to be her savior of sorts…possibly. But she and I didn't really hit it off and you…you captivated me," He paused and smiled at her although she still wouldn't look at him. "When did you write the letter?"

"When….when I thought she had…that you and she…I was angry that she would do that to me …and to you. I thought you were such a nice man; I didn't want to see her toy with you like she did with so many other men."

"But…she didn't. Not after that first night anyway. And we…I thought we were…growing closer."

"We were, but I'd already sent the letter. And when she realized it was me…well, she became even more spiteful and so when she saw you at the garden party….she said what she said." Finally she chanced a glanced at him. Anthony was struck by the sadness and remorse he saw in her eyes. "I am sorry…for my sake but even more because you were hurt by it all. I deserved it perhaps but you did not."

"You were young, Edith; both of you were. It's just that…had I asked that question that day I wouldn't have agreed to go to France and…we would have been married all of this time. And I regret the time lost. But I am to blame as well. If I hadn't been so gullible, so easily convinced of my own unworthiness… but I was troubled even then by our age difference. The problem was I couldn't stay away; you were enchanting. You tried to talk to me but I was so undone by her words… I should have stopped to talk to you instead of running away as I did."

Finally she looked at him. Tears sat precariously in her eyes. "You…agreed to go to France? You had a choice?" She seemed astonished by the thought.

"I shouldn't have said that," Anthony replied quickly. It was clear that she felt guilty for what happened to him. "But I did agree. Once the war was declared, I was called into service to help with Intelligence. A friend at the Home Office knew of my time in Germany and also knew I speak the language fluently. It was decided that I might be of assistance. For the early part of the war I worked in London but later…there were younger men who could have gone but they were married, had families. Since I didn't, I volunteered to go. I can't talk about my specific assignments there but… there was an effort to confuse the Germans by supplying false information. I was wounded in that effort. A German patrol found me and took me to one of their medic stations. Conditions were deplorable. The doctors tried to help me but there was little in the way of supplies and their own soldiers got preference. The pain was the worst at night. I would lay awake thinking about you, trying to recall memories of our time together, happy bright memories. I think without those memories I would have perished."

"How awful….your treatment, I mean. I…is it wrong of me to feel happiness at the knowledge that I helped you somehow?"

Before Anthony could reply, she surprised him by shifting and then suddenly she was in his lap, straddling him. Edith leaned very close to him whispering, "did you dream of me? Did you think about how it would be to….how we would be together? Because I have."

Anthony closed his eyes and drank in the sensations she was creating. How could it be possible to feel so many different things at once? The weight of her on him, her intimate parts so close to his was intoxicating. The subtle wisps of warmth from her breath as she whispered to him left him tingling. And then she leaned in even more, her chest pressing against his and he thought he might explode with awareness of her. He couldn't open his eyes, it was too overwhelming. So he breathed deeply, trying to calm himself and take it all in at the same time. Having her on him like this was glorious and also quite agonizing. "Edith," he gasped in an attempt to quiet their emotions.

She nuzzled into his neck, nipping and licking before pushing away with a moan. "I don't want to wait," she lamented. Anthony smiled at her as he observed the impatience in her eyes. "Only a few days, my sweet…just until the soreness has gone away."

"Yes I know," she sighed. Then in an action that was incongruent with their agreement, she began to fidget with the buttons of his night shirt. "Edith?" he asked in a warning tone.

"I just…you told me about your injury and I've seem the limitations it causes but…I think it is time to actually see it." She looked at him as if asking permission but her fingers were still working at his buttons.

Fear gripped Anthony. This was one of the things that frightened him the most about marrying her; how would she react when she saw the damage? "Are you certain?' he asked timidly. "It is rather gruesome."

"I am. As for gruesome, we did have some horrible injuries at Downton, so I believe I am somewhat prepared."

He knew this time would come eventually but Anthony wasn't certain he wanted it to be now. But then he reasoned he would never want it to be time. So apprehensively, he nodded for her to proceed. He watched in dreadful fascination as she managed his buttons and then leaned toward her as they came unfastened and she worked to push the shirt off. Leaning into her, he felt such comfort, such tenderness. Wrapping his left arm around her waist, he wished they could remain like this indefinitely. But he knew that couldn't be and slowly leaned back, his heart pounding as he awaited her reaction.

Anthony watched as Edith's eyes widened, her eyebrows lifting measurably. Her soft brown orbs swept over his chest before settling on his shoulder. He heard a small gasp from her and presumed she was disgusted by the mangled, discolored flesh. Just as he was about to reach for his shirt to cover himself, she reached for him, her fingers tracing the scars gingerly. Astounded that she could …would even attempt to touch him there, Anthony froze. Watching her face intently, he didn't see the disgust he expected. Instead he saw sorrow and pain, a reflection of some of the very emotions the scars elicited in him when he looked in the mirror.

Her finger still hovering over his wound, she looked up at him. "Does it hurt…if I touch you there?"

Glancing uneasily at her finger on his scar, he nodded. "No…I can feel the sensation of you touching me but not much else. It, my whole arm actually, is essentially dead. Occassionally I feel pain as the muscles atrophy and sometimes I can feel sensation but it isn't really pain or anything else I can identify. I just know something is touching me." Her attention to his injury was making him nervous. She didn't seem horrified but then, he wasn't certain she truly understood the ramifications. The arm was slowly withering and would eventually shrink and draw up into a grotesque appendage. The doctors had told him there was nothing to be done and he had resigned himself to that inevitability. But now, he wondered how he would cope with her disgust as it happened. Before his mind could wander farther down that trail however, she did something that completely shocked him. She leaned over and kissed him there and then began to caress his arm. All he could do was watch in fascination. How could she stand it, he wondered.

Intertwining her hand in his dead one, her fingers gripping his, she looked up. "There were some exercises that I helped a patient do when he was staying with us. He had nerve and muscle damage to his arm and they helped. I know it wouldn't make your arm right again but perhaps it might slow the atrophy.

Mystified, he could only stare into her dark, hopeful eyes. "We could try, I suppose," he finally whispered, so bemused he was unable to speak any louder.

She smiled at him then, her warm broad smile that engaged her entire face. And Anthony felt as if he could breathe again. She wasn't disgusted; she could see past his injury. "Dearest, as much as I am enjoying your attention, this position can't be comfortable for you," he said softly as he realized the awkward position her legs were in.

Chuckling, she looked down at their laps. Then blushing, she looked back at him. "But I am enjoying it too. And I find it very comfortable and…exciting." He quirked his brow, wondering what could be so exciting about examining an old man's wounds. Then she wiggled over him, brushing against his manhood and he knew what she was suggesting, which caused him to blush as well. "I hardly think you find an old codger like me all that exciting," he replied disparagingly.

"Oh, but I do," she teased as her hand came up to his chest, her fingers drawing a path down the center of it. "You are marvelous," she said with a huskier voice.

Surprised again, all Anthony could do was chuckle. "Oh, I hardly think that…" he scoffed.

"But you are," she insisted. "I think you are magnificent…and so is your chest." Her fingers trailed over his pectoral muscles and drew a circle around his nipples, an activity that he found incredibly stimulating. Maud had certainly never touched him in such a bold fashion. He looked down at her hands and then back into her eyes and knew she wanted him in every sense. He wasn't just a means to marriage, a way of her meeting society's expectations, as he'd once thought. He had always felt that she did care for him but…the way she was looking at him now, the fire in her eyes, her fascination with him; suddenly, it all fell into place for him. Her feelings for him were very much the same as his were for her. This new knowledge made things even more difficult for Anthony as he struggled to maintain his composure. _Be patient,_ he told himself over and over until it became a mantra. _In due time... _The problem was that his body was not listening to what his mind was saying. Never in his life had a woman touched him as she was touching him now and it was electrifying.

"Edith," he breathed. "Oh my sweet one…I want what you want so very much but…"

She leaned in, her lips capturing his as her body pressed against him once more. "I'm tired of waiting," she breathed before capturing his lips again. It took every ounce of Anthony's self control to not give into the sensations she created. He'd never felt so alive, such fire, in his entire existence. There wasn't a part of him that was not responding, compelling him to take her.

* * *

Not quite "there" yet. Everyone seems to want smut except our dear Baron who said he trusted me take the story wher it needs to go in that regard. We'll have to see what my fingers end up typing, lol.

Thank you all for the very kind reviews and especially the words of support. We're fine, I promise...just a bit caught off guard. I've decided I'm not going to worry. Every bump in our road seems to send us off in a new direction and so far things have gone quite well overall. I'm trusting that this bump will end us up in a better place eventually.

I do hope you enjoyed this part of their first night. More to come soon, I hope...


	25. Becoming Whole

Many thanks for all your comments and support; it means so very much. I'm afraid I'm a bit behind in writing and especially in revewing the wonderful stories being written by others. So many of you have marvelous stories of your own and I am reading. But I'm mostly doing it at work and can't always sneak in a review;-) But I do believe our Andith community is simply the best; so many talented writers and creative minds.

I hope you enjoy this one. I tried to smut it up a little but it didn't seem to fit the mood, so while it isn't exactly chaste, I'm afraid it might disappoint. But since they are together now, there will be plenty of chances to squeeze in a little smuttiness;-) I'll try to make it happen soon.

* * *

Her hands seemed to be touching him everywhere, sending shots of vitality through him until he didn't believe he could stand much more. His arm wrapped around her, his fingers clinging and pressing, telegraphing his own need. And then she began to slowly move over him, her core stroking him through the layers of clothes and he thought he might just die right then and there. God, she was incredible, holding her was incredible; and having her like this… so brazen and passionate… desirous of him… it was extraordinary… _she _was extraordinary. Before he could think of what to do, she was in motion, the hem of her gown suddenly around her waist and his pajama pants button suddenly undone. His small gasp at the realization didn't deter her and he nearly leapt up from the euphoria of her hand on his manhood, possessing it. Her initial attentions had created a rush he hadn't felt in years but this…it was too much, too exhilarating for him to even think; all he could do was respond.

Somehow he managed to shift her until they rolled, him suddenly over her, her hand still grasping him. Looking down into her dark lust filled eyes, he realized she was suffering like effects. Her expression was one of absolute ecstasy and bliss. This wasn't simple passion on her part; it was so much more. This was about them, about finally becoming one…two parts becoming whole. And as he entered her, he felt it unquestionably. This was what was meant to be; they were meant for one another and riding this euphoria he would never doubt their suitability again.

She was most definitely ready for him; there wasn't the usual concern of a blushing bride on her wedding night since she had already lain with another. But Anthony quickly pushed that from his mind. She was with him now; she was his. As she took him deeper and deeper within, he felt the intransience of their connection even more. They were one now, as surely linked in heart and soul as their bodies were in this act.

Anthony tried to make it last, tried to think of things that would help him hold back, if even just a little. But looking into her rapturous face, he couldn't. He watched her reach for release even as he built toward his own and miraculously they seemed to find it together, hovering momentarily in the heavens before it happened. In Anthony's mind it was as if the whole world had exploded and left only the two of them, panting and breathing, shaking and quivering until they began their descent back to earth.

She clung to him, breathless and somehow still needy. As gently as he could, he rolled to his side, his left arm still holding her. No sooner than he had landed on his back she was cradled against him, her need to touch him radiating through her fingertips. Too exhausted to give much response, he contented himself with tracing tiny lines along her back with his fingers, reveling in the feel of her. To say he had any thoughts in those moments would have been an exaggeration. He simply wasn't capable of thinking; all he could do was feel and he felt so very much. Instead, he catalogued it all away in his mind, every sensation, every nuance… And then he remembered. "Oh god, I haven't hurt you, have I?" He searched her body for signs of further injury but she just smiled at him. "No, not at all. I'm fine," she replied.

Edith slipped away from him with a groan. He watched her, momentarily panicked. Had he misunderstood? But she turned to him and smiled. "I'll be right back," she said softly. It was then that another revelation bewildered him. The bedside lamp was still bathing the room in a soft glow. They had…it had all happened with the light on. Maude would have never allowed that to happen but Edith… He smiled as he watched her cross the room. Of course, she wasn't the one who should want to hide in darkness; he was the one who should have been worried about what might be revealed. Suddenly self conscious, he thought about turning out the light but before he made a decision she was walking back from the bathroom. Seeing her stride toward him pushed all thoughts of darkness away. "My god, you are so beautiful," he whispered hoarsely. .

She beamed at him as she slid back into the bed. "You make me feel beautiful," she murmured as she snuggled against him again. "You always have…"

"I have?" Anthony couldn't think what he might have said or done _always_…

"You have never once looked through me. You always see me and notice things that others don't see, whether it is a new dress or my hair is different or…well, just anything about me." She looked at him coyly and then grinned. "So, I've told you how magnificent I think you are… what is it about me that you find beautiful?"

Anthony's training should have kept him from expressing what he really thought. There were countless phrases that he had been taught as a young gentleman to appease a woman. But this wasn't just any woman and he didn't want all the proprieties to come between them again. Honesty was the best policy, he decided. "Everything," he answered softly. "Your eyes, your lips, your hair, your…"

"No I mean, what one thing…"

"Oh that's difficult," Anthony replied. "You really expect me to choose just one thing about you?"

"Alright then," she said with an exaggerated huff. "I was admiring your chest when I said you are magnificent. So what about my chest?"

Chuckling, Anthony reveled in the mischief in her eyes. He was so happy to see her happy. "Oh well…I haven't had the opportunity to fully explore the possibilities there but…" he paused to tease her.

"But what?" she asked uneasily.

"Let me just say this," he said slowly to further taunt her, "when we first began to keep company one of the first things I noticed about you while standing next to Mary was the rise of yours just above the neckline of your gown. Your sister had no such…advantage. Your décolletage looked really quite enticing…very…. alluring. You were quite a tease… Of course later, when we were courting, I noticed your …appearance often and could only imagine what was in store for me if you accepted me. I often left Downton in a deplorable state…"

Edith laughed at him. "Oh really, surely you have met plenty of women who have more…assets than I?" To Anthony's delight, she was flirting with him in the most audacious manner.

"Perhaps," he agreed, his eyes grazing over her still enticing but hidden assets. "But few were quite so pleasingly packaged." He really was being outrageous and expected to have a disapproving retort come his way. Instead, she surprised him. "Really? You really like my… you think I have…assets?" She blushed the most delightful shade of pink which only made Anthony smile broader. "Most assuredly." She leaned back against him, her hand resting over his heart, seemingly content with his answer.

"Of course, I am at a disadvantage," he quipped, emboldened by her acceptance of his outrageous behavior.

"What? Why?"

"You robbed me of my shirt and yet you remain somewhat hidden beneath your gown."

Her chuckle made him smile. Leaning into him, she kissed him squarely on his chest and then shifted away. Deftly she pulled her gown over her head in one swift motion, revealing herself to him. He heard the intake of his own breath as all he could do was stare. "Oh my love…." He whispered reverently, awed by the knowledge that she would want to share herself with him. "Oh my…" he muttered appreciatively.

She glowed, he realized. Her eyes sparkled as she watched his reaction to her and she positively glowed. How could she care so much what he thought? But it was obvious she did. Finally able to construct words, he smiled at her. "So exquisite…even more than I imagined," he assured her.

She looked away demurely, blushing even. "I hoped you might think so, although with all the bruises…."

"They will fade," he whispered as he timidly reached for her, his fingers tracing the contours of her breasts. While she wasn't overly endowed, Anthony considered the years of delight her pert little mounds would provide him and of course, with pregnancy, they would grow fuller and even more interesting. Using his hand, he sized them, noting that her left side seem a little larger and fuller than her right. Grinning nonsensically, he let his finger trace its way to her little buds, first her right and then her left, both now standing hard and flushed. Circling first one and then the other, he was rewarded by a soft moan from her as she squirmed in delight. Smirking, he flicked over the perk little tips and watched in fascination as she gasped.

Delighted by his discovery of her ability to enjoy his attentions, Anthony grew even bolder in his behavior, caressing, teasing, and pinching to see how she would react. He had heard that women were as capable as men of enjoying intimate activities, but it hadn't been his experience. Maude had tolerated his attentions at best and his one other experience had been when his uncle had taken him to Paris on a break from school. As was common then, Anthony was introduced to the delights of the feminine world by a courtesan. But unfortunately Uncle Theodore, remembering the delights of a particular woman in his own youth, had taken Anthony to the very same woman, Madame Celeste. The woman was well on in years, quite jaded and immune to the any feelings at all Anthony had decided. The whole encounter had been a fiasco and he'd left feeling even more awkward and inadequate, swearing that women were horrible creatures. Maude hadn't been unfeeling but she certainly hadn't enjoyed their encounters as Edith was enjoying this one.

Another small gasp from her alerted him to the fact that she was indeed taking pleasure in his activities. Growing more confident, he decided to try something he'd heard about but had never attempted. Very gently, he used his tongue to circle her bud, just as his finger had done a moment or so before. When she didn't pull away, he grew even bolder and flicked across her tip and then, in his boldest move ever, he actually latched onto her tight little bud and timidly began to suck. Her reaction astonished him as her hand went to his hair, her fingers grasping a handful and her fist pushing him into her. Emboldened, he began to suck and tease, alternating between flicks and licks, kisses and nips, between each suckle. He felt her entire body reacting, her hips rising as she moaned and squirmed under his ministrations.

It was then that he realized he was feeling the stirrings of arousal himself. Always before, he'd committed the act, cuddled awhile, and then fallen asleep. But here he was, building again…in the same night…. Astounding, he thought as he pulled away enough to see the flush that was overtaking Edith's entire body. If anything, she was more aroused than she had been on their first encounter. "You are so very beautiful," he whispered in amazement. Instead of the usual reaction of a smile or a flirting gaze, she pushed his head back to her body. "Show me,' she growled as her other hand reached to offer him her breast. That in itself nearly undid him right then in there.

After giving one side his undivided attention for a few moments, he switched and devoured her other. Her hands were traveling over him, up and down his back, across his shoulders, onto his thighs…Meanwhile, she was kissing and nibbling her way around his face and ears, down his neck, although the further down she got, the more it pulled her away from him, so she gave up that effort.

Gently he began to explore the rest of her fully exposed body. With the lamp still on, he was able to take it all in, her curves and long lines, the blush of her skin, and the most thrilling of all, her obvious arousal. She whimpered when his lips left her breasts to explore the rest of her. Running his hand along her soft contours, he felt the firmness of her young skin; it was almost like silk beneath his fingertips. The darkened spots that were the results of the brute's blows angered him momentarily but Edith soon made him forget his anger. It shouldn't have, but it shocked him when he felt her hand upon his manhood again. "Edith," he whispered, it being his turn to whimper.

Do you not like it …when I touch you there?" she asked nervously.

"I…no one has ever…I do like it; I've just never…it is new to me…" she gave him a gentle squeeze that made him weak with excitement. "Don't do that if you want me to last," he warned. She chuckled at him and then to his great surprise, began to stroke him. "What are you doing?" he exclaimed as he sat up.

As she snatched her hand away, she looked dejected. "I…I thought you might like it too."

Immediately feeling foolish, Anthony smiled awkwardly. "I did. It's just…how did you know to do that? It…it's what…well when we need release, sometimes men….do that." Peevishly, he wondered if this wasn't something Gregson had introduced to her.

"I just ...It felt like the thing to do…you…it feels …so good in my hand. You…you've done that to …yourself?" Her face was a mixture of curiosity and revelation. Anthony relaxed, feeling awkward and ashamed still but intrigued by her curiosity. "Before I was married…the first time…and sometimes even after when, well…when Maude was…indisposed." Suddenly feeling glum, he looked away remembering the pain of her rejection, the nights when she feigned headaches or after awhile just simply said, "not tonight". He would have been content just to be with her, hold her and such but she'd wanted no part of any of it, telling him that it might lead to other things. She'd said it with such disdain that it had hurt. He'd tried to be considerate, tried so very hard to acknowledge her preferences but in the end, it seemed that she'd preferred not having him in her bed at all. As he looked at Edith, he wondered how long it would be until she rejected him as well.

She was watching him and as if she could read his mind, her hand went to his cheek where she stroked him gently until he looked at her. "You must promise me that even on the nights when I'm not able to…" she smiled shyly. "Well, on those nights, if you feel the need to …help yourself….promise me you won't be alone. Come to me and…I'd like to be a part of it somehow."

Once again astounded by her, Anthony stared at her, his mouth gaping open. "But …it isn't….that wouldn't be…"

"What?" she looked at him innocently.

"Proper," he replied.

"Proper or not…and I don't like that word between us… I would think it feels very lonely to …to do that for yourself. I don't want you to ever feel like that again. You are not alone, Anthony. I am here and I will always be here for you." Then grasping him in her hand again and smiling as he sprang back to life, she looked down at him rather fondly. "Besides, I do love the way you feel in my hand…so strong and alive…and the skin is so smooth, silky even. I think I might rather enjoy assisting you in that fashion." She began to stroke him again and just as he was about to give into the sensation, he remembered his mission.

"No…" he gasped. "Not…. No, I want to …"

"Want to what?"

He looked into her smoldering eyes and realized just how very much she was enjoying this…him…his body. It left him almost breathless again. She kept doing that too him, he mused. She kept taking away his breath. "I want to…love you," he whispered. Then leaning in, he picked up his trail over her body and wondered how long he could last at this since she still greedily held him in her hand.


	26. Praise for the Morning

Everyone has been so kind with their remarks! You, all of you Andiths out there, feed my soul right now and I thank you for it.

I am ignoring season 4. I don't like the way it is going so far. But I'm not giving up! Sir Anthony, the White Knight WILL come riding in to rescue Edith before it is all done; of that I am sure. And if he doesn't, if the evil JF blocks his way, then I shall be crushed.

In the meantime these Cat Stevens lyrics were playing in my head as perhaps the way Anthony might be feeling...

Morning has broken like the first morning  
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird  
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning  
Praise for them springing fresh from the world

Sweet the rains new fall, sunlit from Heaven  
Like the first dewfall on the first grass  
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden  
Sprung in completeness where His feet pass

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning  
Born of the one light, Eden saw play  
Praise with elation, praise every morning  
God's recreation of the new day

* * *

They woke just before dawn. Anthony was first and he contented himself to simply lie beside her, watching her sleep. The lamp still burned on the bedside table and the soft glow made her peaceful features glow even warmer. His exploration of her body had lasted longer than he'd originally thought it might but he'd sampled every part of her, including the sweet nectar that rested between her legs. Since she had so thoroughly surprised him with her attentions to his intimate parts, he'd decided that turn about was fair play. She'd squealed when he first touched her so intimately and when he had kissed her there….she had looked at him uncertainly. But he had seen the interest in her eyes and had proceeded to love her there just as he had loved the rest of her.

Anthony smirked as he remembered the taste of her. Only ever having done such an audacious thing once before with Madame Celeste, he hadn't known what to expect. The French experience hadn't been pleasant at all with her trying to teach him everything about how to make love to a woman in one night and as she was so obviously well used, even n his younger estimation, Anthony hadn't understood the delights that were possible with one he loved. Reflecting on his night with Edith, all he could do was smile. He had brought her to the heights not once, but twice. It had felt glorious to watch as she writhed and gasped at his touch and when she had lost herself to his attentions….oh, how marvelous that had been! After her second time, she tried to stroke him to his end but he'd stopped her, choosing to bury himself in her thoroughly soaked inner depths. Both had been surprised when his thrusts had brought her to the summit once again and in such a frenzy that she sent him plummeting over the precipice and they exploded together. Nothing in his entire life could ever measure up to the thrill that was Edith, _his_ Edith. The memory of it had him giddy.

Edith was slow to wake, her eye lids fluttering before finally opening to scowl at the light. She looked over at him, rolled to her side to face him, and then promptly cuddled into his chest. "Mmmmmm," she murmured, "this is better." Her behavior perplexed Anthony, as she settled against him, seemingly slipping back into sleep. He decided it was a nice perplexity though as he wrapped his arm around her and held her gently. He enjoyed the feel of her against him, her warm breaths tickling his skin.

They remained like that for a few minutes until she rolled to her back and she grunted, eliciting a chuckle from Anthony. She opened one eye and glared at him before letting out a wide yawn. Her arm came up to cover her eyes and she sighed. All of her antics amused him as he watched in fascination. Finally, she rolled again, this time to the opposite side of the bed. He was treated to the site of her still bare back as she sat up. After another sigh, she stood and crossed the room to the privy, giving him a most delightful show of her backside. All Anthony could do was marvel at the entire sequence. She was here with him; this was what his mornings would be now and as he watched her return to him, he couldn't imagine anything better.

Crawling into the bed she scooted up to him, her face so very close to his and she was smiling. "Good morning husband," she said softly, her eyes sparkling.

Anthony was shocked at how much those simple little words could excite him but they did. Looking deep into her eyes, he smiled. "Yes, it s a good morning isn't it?" he replied gleefully. Cupping her jaw with his hand, he studied her lips. "I believe it is the best morning I can remember."

She leaned in to kiss him, a soft gentle kiss that matched his mood, and then she nestled against him. He wasn't certain why, but Anthony felt the need to inquire, "you don't regret last night, I hope?"

Cooing, she squirmed against him. "You mean regret marrying you, or regret teasing you until you took me, or do you mean regret what followed?"

Perplexed again, Anthony hesitated. "I suppose I mean … any of it," he finally replied, his heart racing.

"Mmmmmm, noooooo….none of it. It was…. You were… mmmmmm, wonderful," she purred.

Ecstasy didn't even begin to describe what Anthony was feeling at that moment. He thought it had been wonderful too but he had been worried that he might have disappointed in some way; after all, he was older and not quite the man he had once been and in addition had use of only one arm which made things awkward at times. But she thought it had been wonderful!

She squirmed against him again and then giggled. "Goodness, someone's feeling vivacious this morning."

Anthony frowned and then realized to what she was referring. He'd been so taken with her in the morning light he hadn't realized that his mind was not the only part of him responding to her presence. "I…I'm sorry. I ….I suppose you are just too alluring in the morning light." His mind was reeling; god, why did he have to have that reaction now…and how after the last night? But even so, surely she was tired and not in the mood for….

His thoughts were interrupted by the feel of her hand on him again…..AGAIN! Anthony was doing the squirming now. He doubted his ability to please her so soon after…after last night. But she was creating life where none should have been and it was wildly exciting. And then another thought darted through his mind. "Edith, really my sweet, we should take better care….the baby….ummm," he rolled his eyes as she tweaked his tip. "Oh my darling, really…." She squeezed him. "Surely you are…ahhhhhh" she silenced him with a kiss.

Half an hour later, Anthony exhausted and Edith lying languidly next to him, he wondered briefly if she was going to kill him. There was no way he could keep this pace and he knew it; he marveled at what had transpired since their arrival last night and congratulated himself on keeping up his end but this could not continue. Glancing over at her and seeing a very contented smile on her face, he decided he must do his best. He had, after all promised to make her happy. And she certainly seemed happy. Yes, he must do his part, even if it killed him.

Just then he heard a rather large rumble from her stomach. He looked up to see her chagrined expression but all he could do was chuckle. "Seems our little one is in want of breakfast," he teased.

"I am rather hungry," she agreed. "Do we have time…before the train, I mean?"

"Time for…?"

Edith rolled her eyes and smiled wickedly. "I believe I have married a sexually obsessed fiend."

Taken aback by her comment, Anthony gaped. "I…I didn't mean to imply…"

Giggles erupted from her, confusing him even more. "I know. I was simply teasing. But I was wondering if we had time for breakfast."

Happily Anthony replied, "of course, my sweet."

On the train back to Downton, she curled up next to him and dozed. At first she leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. By the time they arrived at the train depot, her head was in his lap. Dismissing her odd behavior, blaming her condition for her weariness…well, her condition and her lack of sleep the night before, he watched her serenely. Anthony couldn't remember when he felt more at peace.

Edith hadn't wanted to leave the hotel. After ordering room service, he had suggested they prepare for the journey to Locksley and she had looked at him disappointedly. "But it is so nice here…and it's just the two of us," she moaned. "I like having you all to myself. When we go back everyone will have an opinion and they'll all insist on visiting and …"

"And there is a little girl who's recently lost the only person she had ever depended upon and now she depends on me. She was very upset by my delayed return. I can't delay it longer, my sweet. I must return and explain everything to her. I must reassure her that all will be well and she will be cared for."

Edith had conceded and then looked at him lovingly. "You really are marvelous," she'd told him, sounding a little awed.

"Not really," he had replied bashfully. "There really was no one else to take her."

Edith reached for him, encircling him in her arms and gently kissed his cheek. "Perhaps, but you are still marvelous."

Anthony decided he liked having her look at him in that way and he liked that she thought him to be marvelous. He would endeavor to ensure that was always the case.


	27. Home Again

As the car pulled in front of Locksley, the front door flew open and Emma charged towards it. Edith smiled when she saw the girl bouncing with excitement while they waited for Carl to open the car door. Anthony stepped out first and turned to help Edith but was nearly knocked off balance by Emma grasping at his leg. "Anotee!" she cried happily.

As soon as Edith was out of the car Anthony turned to the child, a huge smile on his face. "Little one, you must be more careful."

"I'm sorry," the child said, her face crestfallen. It was then she looked at Edith. Tugging at Anthony's Jacket, she whispered, "you brought the fairy…"

Anthony saw Edith's questioning look and chuckled. "Yes, I did. She's come to live with us." Emma squealed with delight and then gazed at Edith warily.

Anthony watched as Edith knelt in front of the child. "Hello. I don't think we've been properly introduced. I am Edith."

Emma's eyes widened. "Lady Edith….Anotee says I shoulb call you Lady Edith."

Smiling still at the child, Edith looked up at Anthony and then back at the girl conspiratorially. "Well, when I didn't live here, that was true. But now that we are a family, I think Edith will be better."

"Family?" the child frowned.

"Well, yes. Anthony and I are married now. And since you are his ward…his special little one, then we will be a family."

Emma glanced down. "I neber had a family before…just Grammy and she's died. Anotee is like my Papa now so does that make you like my Mama?"

The child's question unsettled Anthony. But he relaxed as Edith replied, "I suppose it does."

Emma looked at her solemly and then gently touched her face. "You hurt."

"Um, yes...well, I was hurt. But Anthony came and made it all better. In a few days it will be as if it never happened," Edith said softly.

Offering her his hand, Anthony suggested to Edith, "we should go inside. You must be tired after the train and the doctor said you should not overdo things."

Taking his hand and standing, Edith looked up at him with sparkling eyes. "Yes, of course. I am tired; I wasn't able to sleep much last night," she teased.

Anthony heard a chuckle from Stewart, who stood behind them and felt a blush rising to his face. "Anotee, why your face red?" Emma giggled.

"Anotee's face is red because he's far too warm in this sunshine," Edith told Emma as she glanced mischievously at him.

Mrs. Paxton stood just inside the door, a scowl on her face. "Miss Emma, it is time for your nap."

"But Anotee Sir is home. I want to stay with my Anotee," the child whined.

Mrs. Paxton's glare withstood the girl's complaint and Anthony smiled down at her. "Go along with Mrs. Paxton. Edith and I are tired from our journey. After a quick bite to eat, I imagine we'll have a short nap as well. We'll meet later in the library and have a long chat, little one."

Emma looked up at him, a frown forming on her small face. "But…"

"Yes," Edith joined in. "A nap sounds wonderful. And after we'll all be refreshed and I want to know you better Emma. But I'm afraid I am much too tired. When we meet later, I want you to tell me about your grandmother and how you met Anthony and…well, just everything. But I really am too tired to listen right now."

Emma looked at her skeptically and then sighed. "But Mrs. Paxton will make me do a lesson and I missed Anotee."

"And I missed you, my sweet little one. But I really am in need of some rest too. I have so many things to tell you later. But for now, you must go up with Mrs. Paxton," Anthony said firmly.

Despondently she turned and followed Mrs. Paxton up the stairs. Anthony watched, realizing just how difficult the last few days had been for the child. "I really must spend some time with her later," he muttered. Edith heard and turned to smile at him. "We both will. Perhaps we'll have tea under that large tree behind the house," she suggested. "It will be far less formal and perhaps easier for her to manage."

"What a lovely idea. I'll inform Stewart once we get you settled in," Anthony declared.

"Yes…I really am feeling a bit weary."

Anthony reached for her hand which she hooked through his arm familiarly. He led her up the stairs and walked with her down the corridor towards his bedroom. He felt her hesitate when they passed his door, but took her to the next door. "This is your room, my sweet," he said softly as he opened her door.

He could feel Edith's confused look and was unsure of the cause. It wasn't as if this had been Maud's room. No, he and Maud had rooms on the opposite hall. When she died, Anthony had moved to this side of the house. "I'm afraid it is rather bland," he explained. "Perhaps we should consider it a blank slate, hmmmm? You can fix it up as you wish."

Edith stepped into the room and looked around. Her expression remained bewildered as she studied her surroundings. "It is a nice room," she said as she turned back to him. But her eyes gave away her disappointment. "If you would prefer a different room," Anthony began, thinking she didn't like the room.

"The room is fine; it's just…"

Now, he was feeling perplexed. "What my sweet? Obviously I have overlooked something."

She stepped back to him, placing her hands on his chest and looking up into his eyes. "Where will you sleep?"

Surprise bubbled through him as he returned her look "I…my room is…there is an adjoining door," he fumbled. "We can…visit when we wish."

"That's very nice," she replied as she glanced momentarily at the door. "And having separate rooms for dressing might be useful but there will be no visiting back and forth, as you suggest. Either I will sleep with you in your room or you will sleep with me here," she informed him.

Anthony's mind was whirling. "But…it is customary for…"

"Yes, I know. But we are not customary and I have no intention of ever being customary. Even on the nights when we don't…when we just sleep; even on those nights, I want…no, I need to have you near me. We've spent far too much time apart and I have no intention of wasting anymore opportunities… not another moment. We have Emma and soon we'll have another little one, you have the estate, and I have my writing. Our days will be full and I will not spend our nights apart; it may be the only time in the day we have to talk, truly talk and …just be…us."

Anthony was astounded once again by his bride. She looked at him so earnestly, so determinedly and it was clear she would not accept any argument on the matter; not that he wanted to argue with her about it. "Dearest, I can think of nothing sweeter than spending every night with you and waking every morning with you next to me. But if you should need your space, late in your time or perhaps if you are very tired…you will tell me to sleep in the other room?"

"I will agree to that," she smiled at him, her eyes sparkling, "because it will never happen."

Looking into her happy, hopeful eyes Anthony smiled worriedly. "I wish I could really believe that," he said dubiously. "But I know the day will come when you wonder why you married an old broken codger."

"No I won't" she said angrily. "I wish you would stop that; you are neither. And when the day does come that you are old, if you are broken it will because I broke you with too much use. Until then, I fully intend to take full advantage of my privileges as your wife and that includes having you to warm my bed at night." She looked around the room again and then back at him. "I do feel the need for a rest though and since it is our first full day married, I want you to lie down with me."

Chuckling, Anthony pulled her into a hug. "But if I lie down with you, who is to say you will rest?"

"Well… there are more ways than just the one to refresh one's spirit, don't you think," she replied teasingly. With that she stepped away and began to unfasten her clothing. Anthony remained frozen in his spot, his eyes wide, wondering if he should leave to let her change or what…

"Mama said she will send my things from Downton as soon as they arrive home but until then, I suppose I will just rest in my under things," Edith said over her shoulder as she slipped her dress down her arms. Mesmerized by the porcelain white of her skin, only interrupted by a freckle here and there, Anthony only half heard what she said. He watched as she stripped down to her slip and tossed her dress on a nearby chair. She turned to step to the bed and paused, looking up at him coyly. "Are you coming?" she asked with a smirk.

Still frozen in his spot, Anthony took in the sight of her and once again wondered how he might live up to her expectations. "Edith, I promised your father that you would be loved even with my dying breath. But I haven't had a chance to speak with my solicitor to change my will. It really would be in your best interests if we slowed down a little until I've had the opportunity to make arrangements for you after my demise which certainly will come quickly at this pace."

To his delight, she started giggling…._giggling_! He couldn't remember her giggling like that before…like a schoolgirl. "Alright," she said once she'd contained her mirth, "I won't pressure you for anything this afternoon." Then looking at his thoughtfully she added, "but I expect you to be very energetic tonight." From the look on her face, Anthony fully expected her to burst out giggling again.

Feeling an invisible pull towards her, his mind struggled with the rest of him as it reminded him that she truly needed to rest and that he did have some things to attend to downstairs. "I um…as much as I….I have some matters with my manager that need attention and…and you really are too distracting, my sweet. I'll just…I'll go down and meet with him and let you rest. Perhaps it will be more restful for the both of us," he said as calmly as he could.

"Oh alright," she sighed. "If you insist… but not before kissing me."

Anthony felt himself relax, pleased that she had accepted his change of plan so easily. "Of course my darling," he mumbled as he crossed the room to her. Leaning over he planted a lingering but somewhat chaste kiss on her lips. Just as he was about to break away, her hand came up to the back of his neck and she captured his lips again, turning the kiss into something much more passionate. Suddenly Anthony found himself wondering what it was about the estate that was so important and felt inclined to remain with his bride. But just as he was about to give in, she released him. "I will see you later," she said quietly, her eyes dancing with the knowledge of what she had just done to him.

Smiling at her as he looked at her warily, Anthony straightened up. "Most certainly." Then he hurriedly left while he still had any self control.

* * *

So the happy couple has made it home to Locksley. Now what? Oh dear, is that an evil grin on my face;-)


	28. Revelations

Odd how things follow a certain flow sometimes. I had this chapter all sketched out before season 4 began. Yet, there is a thread in this one that follows part of the plot we've seen so far in season 4, except the characters are different and so are the consequences. Anyway, I left it in.

Thanks for all the lovely reviews and to all those who are following and such. Your pleasure and excitement for this story adds to my own.

Also, if you haven't visited my profile in awhile, I've put a little poll up there just for fun;-) Feel free to cast your vote!

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Two days later Anthony was having breakfast with his bride when he informed her, "I've called down to the hospital and Dr. Clarkson is expecting us this afternoon."

"What? But why?" Edith asked alarmed.

"Dr. Hemphill said we should let Clarkson have a look and be apprised of the situation…in case a problem should arise. I think it was wise counsel."

"But then he'll know…"

"He will know what we tell him of the situation. We can tell him the truth or we can fabricate a story to your liking. But Edith, he must know about the baby. You have been through so much and…well, there are risks," he told her as his mind reflected on Maude and her miscarriages.

"Oh very well," she conceded unhappily. "But I feel fine."

"And it is my task to see that you remain fine," Anthony replied, watching her cautiously. He understood her reluctance but over the years Anthony had learned to recognize Edith's calculating expressions and she was wearing one now.

Luncheon that day was a quiet affair, Edith barely speaking to him. It hurt Anthony that she was so disconcerted but he was firm about the necessity of the visit to the doctor. He would not lose Edith as he had lost Maude-he simply could not. He tried to explain that to her but she only seemed to be half listening. Her withdrawal tugged at him.

"I'll have the car brought around in an hour," he informed her as they went their separate ways after the meal. She glanced over her shoulder sadly and dashed out of the room, leaving Anthony a bundle of nerves and doubt.

After freshening up a little and changing from his old battered tweed jacket to a newer one, Anthony waited for her in the front hall. She came down the steps without her usual exuberance and it saddened him further. Once they were settled in the car, Anthony tried to say something, anything that might lighten her mood. "I'm sorry, my sweet, but it is my duty to see that you are properly cared for."

Edith looked at him with moisture in her eyes. "But he will know…and he will think…well, whatever he thinks, his conclusion will be that you've married me to save my reputation. And he won't understand about us at all."

Mystified by her declaration, Anthony looked away for a moment. "That's what has you so… so sad? Because my darling, I don't care what he thinks…him or anyone," he declared as he looked back at her. "We know why we are married. I hope you understand that while your reputation is important to me, that is not what induced me to propose again? I simply was miserable without you and …I selfishly wanted to put a stop to it."

Edith took his hand in hers and simply stared at him for a long moment. "I was miserable as well and I'm glad you put a stop to it; I don't think it was selfish at all."

"My dearest, your happiness is all I care about…your happiness and your health. Tell him we…that it is mine, if you wish. Or tell him the truth. Clarkson is discreet; I'm certain he would keep our little secret either way. Just as I am certain he will advise us on the best course for your health and the health of the little one in there," he said looking at her mid section. "But he must know what happened so he can advise us."

Edith sighed. "Yes, of course you are right. I suppose I'm just not ready to …"

"To what?"

"To let others into our little world," she said as she smiled at him.

"Our little world will be safe, my sweet. We'll keep it that way, I promise."

Richard Clarkson was surprised to see Anthony arrive with Lady Edith. It was plainly written on his face as he stammered to offer Anthony a chair next to hers. Once they were all settled, Anthony explained the reason for their visit.

"Pregnant?" Clarkson asked. "But I thought you were just married?" His surprise was not disguised in the least, Anthony thought.

"We were," Edith said softly. Anthony fidgeted in his chair as Edith continued. "I um…while in London I met someone…and we…" She paused, unable to voice what she had done but letting the effect of her meaning settle in with the doctor. "It was he who beat me and landed me in the hospital, where Anthony found me."

Dr. Clarkson looked from Edith to Anthony, giving him a look of renewed respect. "And now you are worried about the baby?"

"Yes," Anthony replied. "Dr. Hemphill, at the hospital, suggested we inform you and let you watch her for a while since she took several blows to the midsection. And I thought it best to come as soon as we could…"

"Yes, well…. I should take a look, I suppose, just to be certain things are alright. If you'll wait here, Sir Anthony…I'll show Lady Edith to an examination room and we should be back in a few minutes. Just a quick exam I would think."

Edith shot Anthony a panicked look and he smiled. "I'm right here, my dearest. I want to hear everything Dr. Clarkson has to say."

True to his word, Clarkson did have Edith back in just a short time. Clarkson settled behind his desk and cleared his throat. "At first I assumed…well, under the circumstances…I thought yours was probably a marriage of convenience." His voice went higher on the last word, demonstrating his discomfort. "But um…upon examination I um…. Well, it is obviously more." Clearing his throat again, his eyes focused on something on his desk rather than the two people across from him, Clarkson continued. "I would advise caution in your…activities; both in frequency and in…vigor. It would be better for the baby, you see…"

Anthony took a deep breath trying to hide his own embarrassment. But it seemed Clarkson wasn't done. "Really, Sir Anthony, I would've thought you would be more… sensible."

As Anthony squirmed in his chair, Edith began to snicker. Both men looked at her, surprised. "I'm sorry Dr. Clarkson, but it really isn't Anthony who has been so irresponsible. He has tried to exercise caution but I'm afraid I don't give him much choice. I've waited almost ten years for him, you see…to be with him, I mean. And I have no intention of missing an opportunity."

Clarkson looked from one Strallan to the other, flabbergasted. "But you must," he finally insisted. "It is for your safety as well as the baby."

"So you are saying we can't….be together at all?" Edith asked defiantly.

Anthony reached for her hand in an effort to calm her but she was having none of it. Looking at him squarely, she insisted. "No. I am fine. The baby is fine."

Completely unprepared for her defiance, Anthony was at a loss. It was Clarkson who offered a solution. "Lady Edith, I'm not suggesting that you…that there be _no_ …relations. I am merely suggesting that perhaps you might ration them until the baby is born. And when you do…well, perhaps Sir Anthony could be somewhat gentler. There was evidence of…"

"Are you saying I hurt her?" Anthony asked, aghast.

"No, not exactly. But there was evidence that the two of you have been quite …vigorous. Perhaps something a little more …sedate?"

Anthony looked hopelessly from Clarkson to Edith and back to Clarkson. "I will certainly try but Dr. Clarkson," he said as he thought, with a young wife as beautiful as my Edith, do you really believe calm is possible?

The ride back to Locksley was uncomfortable for Anthony. His mind was swirling from the embarrassment of the meeting with Dr. Clarkson and even more with the idea that he had hurt Edith since he had given into her… handling. His stomach rolled at the thought and he was angry with himself. How could he have been so foolish? Edith was as quiet as he and he sensed her quiet was from anger. Unable to think clearly, Anthony wasn't certain who exactly was the object of her anger, but it didn't matter. She couldn't be any angrier with him than he was already angry with himself.

Once they reached the house, Edith stormed through the entrance and up the stairs. Anthony found her pacing in their bedroom a few minutes later. "Dearest, perhaps you should rest before dinner?" he suggested.

Edith turned to face him, her eyes blazing. "Rest? Don't you do that!"

"Do what?" he asked, trying desperately to sound calmer than he felt.

"Patronizing me…treating me as an invalid…like a silly schoolgirl…"

"I ….that wasn't…oh my dear, I just thought…"

"The gall of that man!" she declared, interrupting Anthony.

"What? Yes, well… it was a rather uncomfortable conversation but …"

"How dare he? Oh, I'm angry, just so very angry!" She began pacing again, crossing the room several times, her hands balled into fists at her side as she tried to contain her anger.

"Dearest, please….it can't be good for you to be so upset."

She stopped and stared at him momentarily, breathing deeply. "How could he suggest that you had hurt me? I just…it makes me so angry."

"Yes, yes…you've said that. But he is just trying to look out for you….and…."Anthony paused and unconsciously leaned toward her. "You're saying I did not?"

"No! Oh Anthony, you could never hurt me, not like that. What he saw must have been…well, Michael could be a bit rough at times. Dr. Clarkson must've seen something…"

"He hurt you like that…when you were… he….why, it could only have happened that day…" Anthony tried to piece together her story and it made no sense. "But you said…he wanted to … to….but you told him about the baby and…" Anthony's eyes widened as the obvious hit him in his gut. "He forced himself on you, didn't he?"

Edith looked sheepish as she watched him put the pieces of the puzzle together. Remaining in her spot, her fists still balled, all she seemed capable of was staring at him.

Anthony saw her agony and her fear. "But why didn't you tell me?" He felt his heart tightening, the pain almost too much to bear. The scoundrel had treated his lovely Edith so despicably and it was his fault since he had left her vulnerable.

"Because…" she said meekly. And then taking a deep breath, she straightened up and started again. "Because I didn't want you going after him."

"But he mustn't be allowed to…he can't get away with it!" Anthony's blood was boiling, his anger greater than any he had felt in years. His instinct was to catch the first train to London, hunt Gregson down, and kill him like the dog he was. But as he looked into Edith's face, he understood this was the very thing that frightened her; it was why she hadn't told him before. Suddenly his stomach was tied in knots, his anger battling with his desire to not upset her.

"He is beneath you Anthony," she said firmly. "You would try to confront him in a gentlemanly fashion and he would use it to his advantage. And it would draw attention to the dishonor I have brought to you."

The knots in Anthony's stomach tightened. "What you mean to say is you believe he would best me and you're afraid I might be hurt," he replied mortified.

"No…I…I don't know…perhaps," she said softly. "But I do know he will drag you to his level and… you're too good to know how to manage him on his level. I just know it wouldn't end well. And we're happy…I'm happy …here, with you. I don't want Michael Gregson to have anything more to do with our lives. I don't want a dark cloud hanging over us because of him."

Anthony blinked, his anger settling into a simmer instead of the raging boil it had been. "But you don't believe I am capable of…"

"I believe you are capable making me happy. And I've felt safer with you now than I have felt in a very long time. And I want nothing to change that. I simply want to stay as far away from him as possible and for us to build our life here. Please Anthony, can't we do that?"

Anthony was stymied. She looked so apprehensive, so agitated. He knew he needed to calm himself, help her to be calm; but he couldn't get past the desire to pummel Michael Gregson's face. Watching his Edith, however, he knew he had to let it go… at least for now. So he took a deep breath and forced his anger aside. "Nothing would please me more," he said quietly. "I've wanted this for so long.

She stepped closer to him, her eyes still filled with trepidation as she reached for him. "As have I…"

Swallowing back more of his anger and disgust, he held out his arm and pulled her to him. "This isn't something we should have words over, dearest." Feeling her nod against his chest, the knots in his gut began to loosen. "Oh my darling, it just …it is so very difficult to know what was done to you…and that it is in part my fault."

"No Anthony. I chose to get involved with him. I don't have any excuses; I knew he was married and therefore knew he was of faulty character. But I fell for his charms anyway. Now I simply want to move on."

Swallowing back the words that sprang into his mind, words of self accusation and anger, he simply held her against him. "And so we shall, my sweet. And so we shall… And just so you know, you have brought no dishonor to me, only joy."


	29. New Life

Just a little snippet of a chapter but I do hope you enjoy. With the latest developments in the series, My hopes are re awakened for the return of our man. I'm crossing my fingers and calling on all dieties of all times for assistance here;-)

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Anthony had not given any real thought to what his routine might be now that they were married but generally he supposed life would settle into almost the same pattern as before his trip to London, except that Edith was there, always within reach. The reality was far from his supposition. Rising early became a challenge when he woke in the mornings, entangled with his wife. It wasn't as simple as his natural physical reaction to the sensation but more awe in the very fact of her presence. He found himself abhorrently lacking in motivation to leave her. Consequently, he did little with estate business his first few days at home.

Conversely, Emma required more of his attention. After her initial excitement over Edith's arrival, the child had become wary. She seemed happy that Anthony had his fairy with him but wasn't interested in building a relationship with Edith. Whenever the three were together, Emma gave him her full attention and demanded his, trying to leave Edith out of the equation. And any attention he gave Edith in Emma's presence created jealousy. It left Anthony feeling as if he was walking a tight line. Frustrated one evening, he suggested to Edith that he was inclined to look into a boarding school for the child.

"You will not!" Edith replied. "She is uncertain and afraid and sending her away will only make it worse. I know what it is to feel unwanted…unappreciated. And we will not do that to Emma. We'll keep trying; I will keep trying and eventually she will relent. But she will not be pushed aside."

Anthony marveled once more at his bride. She wasn't upset by the child's treatment at all it seemed, at least not on her own behalf. But she was concerned; he could see it in her expression as she spoke. "All right my sweet, we'll keep trying with her. But if she becomes too much for you to handle, if she causes you any upset at all…"

"Darling, all children cause their parents upset from time to time. And whether by blood or not, she is our child now. And I won't send her away any more than you would send this little one away," she said as she patted her tummy.

Anthony watched her motion with delight. He had been afraid she would resent the baby since it was conceived in such unhappy circumstances, but she seemed happy about it. Covering her hand with his, he thought of the little miracle growing inside of her. Even though he'd played no part in conception, it was truly his baby now with every ounce of feeling he had. He didn't think he could bear the thought that she might not want it.

"We have a honeymoon to plan, you know," he said lightly.

"I feel as if I am already honeymooning. Every night is a new discovery of us and how we are together. And my days are so full of learning more about you."

Anthony chuckled. "I would have thought you know me quite well by now."

"I do. But I keep discovering little things… like how your jaw clinches when you are concentrating deeply or how you twitch just before falling asleep. I've learned that you are quite romantic in a quiet, shy sort of way and that you prefer your toast rather dark and only drink coffee with your breakfast. And most importantly, I've learned that you like to keep the bed clothes to yourself."

Anthony grinned as she finished rather triumphantly. "Is that all, my sweet? I'd have thought you would have discovered something much worse by now."

"You mean something like how you scratch behind your ear when you are running sums? Or perhaps it is that that ratty old tweed jacket is your favorite…is that the horrible secret you've been keeping?"

Chuckling, Anthony responded. "My secrets are no worse than yours, my dearest. I've seen how you stop to look into the mirrors if you think no one is looking. And you nibble at your index finger when you are thinking about what you are reading. And if I snatch the bed covers away it is because you've pulled them all to your side. And if you are implying that my old tweed must go, then so must those old walking shoes of yours." He concluded with a wink. She appeared to look sad suddenly. "My dear, what is it? I've upset you somehow, I'm afraid."

"It's just…I named so many things about you and you have only those few about me…"

Edith made a good show of being upset but her eyes gave her away and Anthony recognized that she was playing with him "It's true," he agreed, "but you see, I can't think when you are near. All I can do is stare in awe. I really am just an old fool who is in love with his young, beautiful, vibrant wife."

Her answering smile sent waves of delight through him. "Perhaps," she said teasingly, "but if you are, you are _my_ old fool and I really think you should pay closer attention to me," she concluded in a feigned huff.

"Closer attention, you say? Well alright then…shall we begin now?" He hovered over her, taking in her scent and the glint in her eyes before leaning closer to kiss her.

Both were breathless as their lips parted. Her eyelids fluttered, suddenly laden heavily with lust. "Perhaps…the bed…" she said as she moved away from him towards it.

"Oh my dearest, you are absolutely brilliant," he chirped as he followed her.


End file.
